A Dance With the Reaper
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: They say you can be a king or a street sweeper, but everybody dances with the Grim Reaper. These days, people no longer dance with the Reaper. Instead, they walk, hunting the living. For some, it's the end of the world. But for the Dixons, it's a chance to start over.
1. Author's Introduction

Hi, I'm BewareTheWalkers. This isn't a chapter, sorry.

I started writing these fanfics when I was in middle school and I just graduated high school, so that alone tells you how long I've been doing this and developing my writing. Ah, yes, development. Also known as the realization that the way I have the prologues set up for my first couple TWD fanfics is confusing as fuck. I deeply apologize.

Which brings me to why I'm posting this story.

If you've been following me and have read my TWD fics, then you'll recognize these chapters because they were once the prologues to the first couple fics in the Clary Dixon series. I'm reuploading them all as chapters in their own story because they, for the most part, go along with season one.

So yes, none of these chapters are really new. I've gone through and (somewhat) edited them and am placing them in order, as they should be. So if you're just now tuning into my series, hey, enjoy what is now the first book in this series. Please refer to my profile for the order in which you should read the others. If you're not new but you've already read these, thanks for clicking on this because you saw I updated and for supporting me.

BewareTheWalkers out.


	2. 1: Atlanta

**Chapter 1: Atlanta**

_**~Clary~**_

"Help me, Daryl!"

The cry forces its way from my mouth before I can stop it. I don't call for help—it's never worked for me in the past unless Daryl was around. When my big brother is near, it always works. He's there to come to my rescue, just as he is now.

I'm pinned to the ground by one of the things. They look like people, but there's no way in hell that they are. I'm pinned, using both of my hands to try to hold him off, and I can't reach my weapons. Daryl arrives, ripping him off of me and driving his knife into his head. So far, that's been the only way to get them to stop—going for the brain. Daryl pulls me to my feet, demanding, "Clary, are you hurt?!"

"No, I'm okay," I assure him.

"C'mon! We gotta go! There's more on the way."

Daryl wraps his hand around my wrist, keeping me close as we run. Our uncle, Jess, turns at the sound of our approach, calling, "Daryl! Clary! You okay?"

We stop short seeing Will, our father, lying on the ground, his stomach torn open. His inside are on the outside. Even though I know that there's nothing we can do, I can't let the bastard die. "Dad," Daryl says, thinking the same thing. "Dad no." He looks at Jess. "We can, we could—"

"Daryl," Jess says. "He's too busted up. Nothing can be done now except ease his suffering."

Daryl looks over at me when he realizes what it means, standing. "Don't watch, Clars."

I'm frozen in shock, only able to watch, as Daryl cocks his gun. He aims it at Will's head, but he can't pull the trigger. Jess takes the gun from him, shaking his head at his unwillingness to kill the man that caused both of us so much pain. Daryl puts his arms around me, blocking my view. I can hear it, though. "Sorry, brother," Jess says.

He fires.

We learned pretty quick that the way to kill them was the brain. That's all it took. Destroy the brain. Easier said than done, in all honesty. Especially when the only way to stop them is the brain.

As we drive away, I look at Jess, who sits beside me. I nudge Daryl's arm, and he glances over, looking towards Jess. "You're hurt," he says, seeing the mark on his arm.

"I'm fine," Jess says. "One of those assholes bit me. Can you believe it? Crazy son of a bitch."

"You sure?" Daryl inquires, and he glares at the two of us, silently telling him to shut the hell up. I flinch away, having seen that look on my father before. Daryl looks down at me, and he glares at Jess when he sees me flinching away from him. About an hour later, we pull over to see what we have in the way of supplies. We decide to split up, each looking for supplies. "Hey, be careful," Daryl says as we break off. "It's nearly dark. If you can't see more than twenty feet in front of you, come back."

I give him a nod, and we split up. I find mostly food, and come back when I fill a bag. I set it in Daryl's truck bed, and see Jess on his way over. I hear growling, and look around for the undead, what I've come to call walkers, but I see none. Maybe I'm hearing things. I turn just as Jess arrives, only to find that he's the walker I heard. I can't help but let out a scream as he lunges for me. I fall on my back, trying to hold Jess off. _Not Jess, a walker,_ I remind myself. I scream for my brother, struggling against the walker. "Help me, Daryl!"

Jess is pulled off of me, and I see Daryl drive a knife into his brain. I push myself up, shaking. "You okay?" Daryl inquires, kneeling next to me.

I nod, too terrified to speak.

"You bit?" he asks. "Scratched? Hurt?"

I shake my head. Daryl pulls me to my feet, then pulls his knife out of Jess' head. "C'mon," he says. "Let's go."

We climb into the truck, just the two of us, traveling north. Thanks to Jess, we learn not to get bit. That was how you got infected. Jess was bit when he was killing what I can only describe as the undead. They're the walking dead. Walkers.

Daryl pulls over after driving for about an hour. I glance at the time on the clock. It says it's 9:30 PM. "Get some sleep," Daryl says, shutting the truck off. "I'll take first watch."

I curl up beside him, and he says, "Angels are watching over you, Clary."

I smile softly at that. I called him my guardian angel once, partly because of his angel-winged vest and mostly because he's always there to save me just in time. Ever since, he says that to me if I go to sleep before him. I close my eyes, but only get about three hours of sleep in all. My mind is replaying today's events, racing with possible scenarios. I can't help but wonder what this is, what's causing this... this plague. I can't help but wonder what would've happened to me if Daryl wasn't there to save my life, or if he had been the one that had gotten bit.

These thoughts flood my mind while I'm awake, and creep into my dreams, becoming nightmares. I know at one point I start whimpering in my sleep, dreaming about a walker-Daryl coming after me, and me not able to kill it because it was him. My brother shakes me awake, asking me what's wrong. In response, I crawl into his lap, lying with my head on his chest. I shake, terrified of Daryl becoming one of them. He immediately puts his arms around me, attempting to comfort me. But what really comforts me is the beating of his heart, the familiar drumming in his chest. I close my eyes, listening to the thumping that tells me the person that matters most to me in this world is still here.

"It's okay," Daryl whispers, kissing my forehead. "Shh, Clary, shh. It'll be okay. I know it's hard. I know. We'll make it."

I want to open my mouth to speak, but I can't. I find myself unable to speak. I can't say the words that I know would result in a beating from my father to the man that would never, ever hurt me.

_I'm scared._

* * *

We were about an hour outside of our hometown when I spoke for the first time since Jess attacked me. "Sam," I whisper.

"What?" Daryl inquires, looking over at me.

"Sam," I say again. "We have to get Sam."

"Clary, he won't be there. And if he is, he's dead."

"Daryl! We have to get him! What if he's alive?"

Daryl stops the truck, looking at me. "He can't be there. The chances of him being in Bronwood are slim, and him still being alive are even smaller."

"Please, Daryl," I beg. "If it were me, you wouldn't stop until I was by your side."

"I know what you're doin', Clary. Don't you dare put me in that spot."

"Daryl, Sammy's my family. My blood. You go back for your blood. That's what we do."

He sighs. "We go back, we check. If we don't find him, we leave. And we go for Merle, and then to Atlanta."

We're quiet the rest of the way to Bronwood, and Daryl stops his truck down the road from the Widmore residence. We look at each other, then climb out. Daryl tosses me my crossbow, and we walk silently to the front door. The door is locked, but I pick up the key from under the rock and unlock it. Daryl enters first, his crossbow raised, and I follow, closing the door after us so no walkers can surprise us from behind.

We stand silently, listening. We use our skills picked up from hunting, and wait. In the kitchen, floorboards creak softly. Someone's sneaking around, trying not to be heard. I start towards the kitchen, Daryl following me closely. As I round the corner, I lower my crossbow, smiling. Sam stands across the table, holding a knife. His hair is a mess, his eyes wild. "Hey, Sam," I say.

He lowers his knife seeing us, sitting it on the counter behind him. "Clary? Daryl?"

I set my crossbow on the table, hugging him. Daryl stands back, proven wrong. Sam's here and he's still alive. I rest my head on his shoulder, and feel as though I could melt into him. He wraps his arms around me, resting his head on mine. "Oh my god, Clary," Sam whispers, kissing my forehead. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I was so scared you were dead, Sammy," I say, looking up at him with tears in my eyes. "But I couldn't accept it. I knew you had to be alive. I knew it."

"My mom's dead," he tells us mournfully. "They got her a day ago. I haven't seen Seb in two weeks."

"I'm sorry, Sammy," I tell him. His father died when he was a young child, his mother left to raise both him and his older brother, Sebastian. His mother was the only parent he knew.

"Here, before I forget," Sam says, reaching into his pocket. "I have something for you."

He pulls out a necklace, and I see a silver ring on it. It's his ring, the one that he always wears. It was once his father's, and then it was his. Sam puts it around my neck, saying, "Hold onto it for me, will you? In case something happens to me. Please, promise me, Clary. You won't ever leave your family."

"Hey, don't talk like that," I tell him, making him look at me. "We'll be fine."

"Either way, thanks for the memories."

"We are alive," I say. "And we're gonna stay that way."

"We're gonna die. It's just a matter of time."

"Sam!" I exclaim. "Stop! I didn't come back just for you to say things like that. We're gonna get out of here. Alive."

"Yeah, about that," Daryl says, turning away from the window. "It's gonna be a bit harder than that."

Sam and I look at each other, then go over to the window. Outside, walkers make their way forward, drawn by the sound of Sam's Doberman, Duke, barking. "Oh, shit," I say. "We're gonna have to run for it." I stand back, taking my crossbow. "Y'all ready?"

"Let's do it," Daryl says, putting his crossbow on his shoulder, ready to fire. I take Sam's hand, and he grabs his knife. "Sugar, we're goin' down swinging," he says with a smirk.

"I'll be your number one with a bullet," I reply before kissing his cheek. We start out the door, running for Daryl's truck. "C'mon, Sam."

As we run, I hear growling get a little too close to us, and push Sam ahead of me. I swing my crossbow onto my shoulder, firing at the walker and killing it. I rejoin Sam, taking his hand again. "Clary, watch out!" Sam cries.

He pulls me away just in time, kicking a walker to the ground. He drives his knife into its head, then takes my hand again. We keep running, trying to get away from the walkers that never get tired, never have to rest. Suddenly, Sam screams in pain, and I turn to find a walker biting his arm. I try to pull him away, but the walker won't let go. Another joins it, pulling my only friend away from me. He tries to fight back, but he can't move his arm. I keep my grip on his hand, but he's slowly slipping away. More walkers stumble over, and Sam goes down under them, his screams filling the air. "Sammy!" I scream, and Daryl's arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back. "No, Sammy! Let me go, Daryl! Let me go!"

Daryl takes my crossbow, putting it over his shoulder and keeping his hold on me, practically dragging me away. I scream at him to let me go, and he finally takes my shoulders, making me look at him. "Clars, we can't do anything for him."

I know he's right, that the walkers already got Sammy, but that doesn't make his screams and cries for help any less painful. Daryl and I run from the place where Sam died, and I realize I should have listened to him. He didn't want to go back for Sammy, and my friend would still be alive if I listened to him. He really did go down swinging, I just didn't want it to be this soon.

* * *

The next day, we find Merle. We drive for a while, a day or two, then stop to refuel. We can't go too fast, because of the danger of the walkers. Of course, as we stop, nothing can go right. I make my way back towards the truck after looking for some batteries in a nearby convenience store, and I'm driven back by a group of the things. I see Daryl and Merle through them, but they don't see me. I can't make it to them, so I turn and run, heading north for Atlanta.

I run for a long time, losing track of how long and far I've been running. It's nearly dark by the time I stop, and look around where I am. I'm at a motel, one called the Travelier Motel, according to the sign. "Oh, shit," I say, seeing a walker.

I run over to a nearby ice machine, climbing inside to hide from it. I'm too tired to fight it at the current moment, and right now, hiding from them seems like the best option. I curl up into a ball inside the ice machine, my crossbow lying beside me. I make sure the door is closed again before allowing myself to drift off to sleep.

But, as usual, nothing can go right. I wake to a banging on the doors, and gasp in fear. I hold my crossbow, ready for a walker to open the door and attack me. But nothing happens. Then, I hear a voice from somewhere off to my left. "Hey, over here!"

_What the hell? _I think, wondering who the idiot is that's luring a walker away. It's a guy, I can tell by the voice. After a while, I decide that I can exit the ice machine, and see the walker lying dead a few feet to my left. Whoever the idiot was, he saved my life. I look up to the other rooms, and see a guy standing outside one of them. He looks to be arguing, maybe with someone inside. Then, I see walkers starting towards him. "Shit," I say.

I take off towards him, climbing the stairs two at a time. "Shit!" he exclaims, seeing the walkers.

A walker gets too close to him, so I fire at it. It goes down, and he looks at me. He's Korean, in his early twenties. He's got dark hair under a baseball cap, and dark eyes. He looks at the walker, then back at me as I lower my crossbow. I say, "C'mon, Short Round. I ain't got all day."

He's obviously in a daze. After all, I did just save his life. I sigh, taking his hand. I pull him along behind me, my crossbow on my back and knife in my hand. I stop at the ice machine, and open a door. "Get in," is all I say.

He climbs in, and I close the door once I'm in. "Glenn Rhee," he says quietly, so no walkers will hear him.

"Clary Dixon," I reply in the same quiet manner. Something touches me, and I flinch at the contact. "Easy," Glenn whispers, misinterpreting my flinch for a surprised jump. "Just me. Don't shoot."

I smile at that, surprising myself. It's the first time that I've smiled since I was reunited with Sam. I quickly stop, looking down. "Hey, little girl," I hear Glenn say.

"Name's Clary," I reiterate. "And I ain't a little girl."

"Not you," he replies. "I have a walkie."

I don't reply, just listen as he speaks into the walkie. "Hey, little girl. Hey there, this is Glenn, and, uh, I'm kinda in a jam here. Uh, little girl, if you're there, can you put your daddy on the phone, or the talkie, or whatever?"

Over the walkie, a man replies, "This is Lee. What's up?"

"So, I'm down at that motor inn, and, well, I'm stuck."

"Stuck?" Lee repeats.

"Yeah, I saw a chance to get some supplies for the group and a bunch of roaming ones got the jump on me. We're hiding over here but they won't leave."

"Hey, Glenn, we're gonna talk it over and send a group to come get you, alright?"

"Awesome. We'll sit tight till then."

"What do you mean, 'we?'"

I take the walkie from him. "Name's Clary. Ran into Glenn. We had to hide from the walkers."

We sit in silence for about fifteen minutes, and then I hear voices. A man, outside. I recognize it as Lee. "Glenn," I whisper. "They're here."

He opens the door, and says, "Guys. Thank god you're here."

"Jesus, Glenn," a girl says. Glenn climbs out, and gives me a hand to help me out, but I don't take it. I climb out on my own, and the girl stares at me. "Who the hell is that?"

Glenn and I climb over the wall, kneeling with them. "I'm Clary," I tell her.

"Carley," she replies.

"That wasn't so hard," Lee says.

"Can we get out of here before any of these things notice us?" Carley inquires.

"Not yet," Glenn says. "There's a survivor trapped up there."

"No way. We gotta go."

"Listen. I was out here looking for gas. And then, up there in the corner room, I heard crying coming from inside."

"Who is it?" Lee inquires.

"It's a girl. We talked and she got frightened. I was trying to get in and help her and she started yelling and saying I was bitten. I tried to convince her I wasn't and that's when all of these guys came out of the forest. That's when Clary showed up, saving my life. We ended up hiding in the ice machine."

"Lucky you," Carley replies. "You made a friend. Now, let's go!"

"We can't just leave her," Glenn says. I like him, he's loyal to people he doesn't even know, and wants to save whoever he can.

"Damn right we can't," Lee agrees.

"You guys are suicidal," Carley snaps. "Over a girl!"

"Majority rules," I say.

"I'm saving her, with or without you," Glenn says.

"You won't be alone," I assure him.

"Think about if it were you," Lee tells Carley.

"Fine!" she reluctantly agrees. "Let's go save Glenn's damsel in distress."

"Okay, this is the plan," Lee whispers as we gather around. "We don't know how hard it's going to be to get her out of that room."

"Yeah, it's boarded up," Glenn says.

"So we have to kill every one of them in here," Lee says.

Carley loads her gun, and I say quickly, "_Quietly_. Noise attracts these things. Now let's have a look around."

Lee leans around a wall, and comes back with a pillow. "Good luck smothering them to death," Carley snaps.

"That's not really what I have in mind," Lee replies. I peer over the wall, and see a walker on the other side of a car. I look over at the others, saying, "I saw one. Other side of that car."

"Be careful peeking around," Glenn warns. "If they get on our scent, we're toast."

"What do you see?" Carley inquires.

Lee looks out again, then says, "We can hide over by that RV if we keep our heads low."

So I follow Glenn and Lee over to the RV, Lee looking around the opposite side. "I'm not sure I could take them all on, even if I had a weapon."

"I think you're forgetting about something," I say, pulling my crossbow off my back. I lean around, putting my crossbow on my shoulder. I fire at the one closest to me, and it goes down. I reload, and make my way forward to the other one. I kill it, then hurry back over to the others, retrieving my arrows. "That was easy," I say, kneeling next to them.

We go back over to the wall, regrouping with Carley. I look at the walker by the car, the pillow in Lee's hands, and the gun in Carley's. "Get out your gun," I say. "Lee, pillow."

"But the noise!" Carley replies, as Lee hands me the pillow.

"Just follow me."

Carley and I hurry over to the walker, and I put the pillow in its face. Carley fires the gun, killing it, the pillow acting as a silencer. The three remaining walkers don't even react. Lee and Glenn follow us over, and I aim my crossbow at the walker down here. It goes silent, my bolt in its head. I look at Lee. "Might want to get that ax."

He nods and goes over to it, taking it from the case. We follow him upstairs, Glenn and Carley lagging behind. Lee kills one walker, while I kill the other. I gather my bolts, reloading my crossbow. Lee knocks on the door, calling, "Hello in there. We're here to help."

"Please, just go away!" comes a woman's reply.

"Let's go, guys," Carley says.

"No," I snap at her. "If we can help, we're helping. You go. You obviously don't care about the survival of others."

Lee keeps his attention on the woman inside, not noticing the standoff. "If you open up, we can take you somewhere safer," Lee says. "We've got a group in town."

"No no no!" she cries. "Please!"

"She's in trouble!" Glenn exclaims.

"Miss, we're coming in," Lee tells her. In one swing, he breaks the board on the door. He tries to open the door, but finds it's locked. He kicks the door, and the woman cries, "Stop! Just stop. I'm coming out."

She opens the door, and the first thing I see is the bite on her arm. "You're hurt," Lee says.

"We need to get you help," Glenn says.

"Glenn, she's bit," I say. "There's nothing we can do. You get bit, you get sick. You die, then you turn. It's too late for her."

"Please, just go away," she begs, then, she looks at the gun in Carley's hand. "You have a gun."

"So?" Carley inquires.

"Can I borrow it?"

"What do you mean, 'borrow?'"

"Give it to me. I can end this and then there's no problem."

"Whoa!" Lee exclaims, realizing what she means.

"Please," she begs. "I don't want to be one of them. They're… they're satanic."

Lee still refuses to give her the gun. She then turns to me. "You've seen people turn. I can tell. You know what'll happen. Please, I don't want to be one of them. Help me end it. Please, I beg you."

"Lee," I say. "Take Glenn and Carley away. I'll be down in a minute."

"Clary," Glenn says. "What're you gonna do?"

"Go!" I bark, looking at them. "I'm doing what needs to be done.

"You're just a kid," Lee argues. "I'll stay. I'll do it."

"You don't have the balls," I snap, and Lee glares at me. I pull out my own gun, a Beretta 92FS. "Go," I tell them, making sure a round is in the chamber. "Y'all don't need to see this."

"There's no changing her mind," Carley says. "She's putting a woman out of her misery. Let her."

With that, she turns and walks away. Lee follows hesitantly, and Glenn remains looking at me. "Go, Short Round," I tell him. "I'll see you in a minute."

He turns and walks away without another word, while I look at the woman. "Thank you," she breathes as I aim my Beretta. "Bless you, child."

Her body drops as the gunshot echoes through the motel.

* * *

Either I have terrible luck, or I'm cursed. Not long after we made it back to the rest of Lee's group, holed up in a pharmacy, the walkers come. They're attracted by an alarm ringing in another part of the store, where Lee and a girl named Lilly are gathering medicine for Lilly's father, Larry. "Oh, shit," I say as I hear the ringing.

Everyone scrambles to gather their gear, and I kneel in front of a little girl named Clementine. "Hey, you stay by me, okay?" I say, and she nods. "If we have to run, you stay with me. I'll keep you safe."

I look up as Lee comes over, and he tells her the same thing. Meanwhile, Kenny, another survivor, barks orders to everyone. "Oh, shit," I reiterate, seeing the dead start to push on the door. "The door! Now!"

Glenn, another survivor named Doug, Carley, and I push back against the door, struggling to keep it closed. Lilly calls for Glenn's help in another part of the store, and Lee takes his place. Both Carley and Doug try to say their goodbyes, but Lee isn't having it. "We will make it through this!" he barks.

The walkers push harder, and break in through a window. Carley picks off the two that try to climb in, and I yell, "Clem!"

She comes running, and I say, "I need you to look for something strong to put between the handles. Go!"

Clementine runs off, and Doug runs to another window. Carley picks off more walkers, ones that manage to get into the store. "Clem!" Lee yells. "Find anything?"

"Not yet!" she replies. "Wait!"

Clementine appears a moment later, carrying a cane. I take it, and shove it through the door handles. That's when we see that both Carley and Doug are in trouble, and we can't save one without losing the other. It's Carley that Lee chooses to save, tossing her more ammo. The walkers pull Doug out the window, and Kenny comes back, yelling that it's time to go. Clementine turns and runs toward them, but a walker grabs her ankles, and she goes down, letting out a scream. I put an arrow through its brain, and Lee picks her up. I run after them, retrieving my arrow. We flee the store, leaving it infested with walkers.

We drive to the Travelier Motel, knowing that we can hole up in there, a few days at least. Glenn and I stand by his car, listening to the broadcast. He and Lee are the only ones I can trust in this group, aside from Clementine. "Hey, Glenn," Lee says, walking over.

"One minute," Glenn replies, listening to the radio. It states that Atlanta is in a Stage Nine Catastrophe. "I think I need to go."

"To Atlanta?" Lee inquires.

"Yeah," Glenn says with a nod. "I got friends there, and I just can't stay here knowing they could be trapped in that city."

"Sounds like nobody knows what's happening there," Lee replies. "When we left a few days ago it could've gone either way."

"I gotta take my chances," Glenn says.

"And you won't be goin' alone," I say, and the two look at me. "If you're goin' to Atlanta, there's no way in hell you're goin' without me. I gotta find my brothers, and that's where we were heading."

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Lee says after a moment.

"And this is what we gotta do," I agree.

"You guys be safe," Glenn tells him.

"You, too," Lee says. I climb in the passenger seat of Glenn's car, throwing my crossbow in the backseat. Glenn climbs in beside me, and we drive away from the rest of them. We drive in silence for a while, then Glenn asks, "Are you okay?"

"I guess so," I reply. "As okay as someone can get. Why?"

"I mean, you just killed a person, Clary."

"You can call it what you like, Glenn. Whatever you have to say to make it okay. I deal with it by saying I put her out of her misery. A mercy kill."

"It's just... I'm worried about you. How old are you?"

I pause for a minute, staring out the window. "Fourteen. Almost fifteen."

"Jesus," Glenn sighs.

"It's children that fight wars, build nations."

"Are you seriously quoting _Poltergeist_?"

I let out a short chuckle. "You caught me." I turn back to Glenn. "Look, Glenn, I appreciate it. I'm thankful for all that you've done for me. For caring about me, for looking out for me, for being there. I haven't had a lot of people like that in my life. I trust you. And that's not something that I say lightly."

* * *

We make it to Atlanta the next morning, or at least we should. The interstate leading in is blocked with traffic, helicopters and fighter jets flying overhead. I grab Glenn's hand when I see the first explosion in the distance, the first bomb falling on Atlanta. He looks at me in surprise, and I release his hand. "Sorry," I mutter.

"It's okay," Glenn replies softly, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. We climb out of his car, walking forward. We don't go far, meeting two families, or at least I assume it's two families. Two men, one fat and the other buff, two women, both thin and frail, and two kids. The boy looks to be my age, the girl about twelve.

Glenn walks up to the dark-haired, buff man, while I linger behind. I can feel the boy watching me, and look over at him. I immediately notice he has dark hair and blue eyes, and think of Sam. I look down, then look up at Glenn, who's deep in conversation with the dark-haired man. I hear footsteps beside me and reach for my crossbow as I turn. I stop when I realize it's the boy that's my age, and look away from him. I flinch when he rests his hand on my shoulder, stepping back. "You okay?" he inquires.

"World's goin' to shit," I reply. "Ain't nobody okay."

"I'm Carl," he says. "Carl Grimes."

"Clary Dixon." I turn and run up to Glenn, and hear the dark-haired man say, "We're thinking of setting up camp with the Peletiers. There's a quarry not far from here."

"Sounds like a good a place as any," I say. Glenn nods his agreement, then looks at the man and the woman with long hair. "Oh, Clary, this is Shane Walsh and Lori Grimes. The family back there is the Peletiers, Ed, Carol, and their daughter, Sophia. The boy is—"

"Carl," I say. "I know." I turn to Shane. "So, where's this quarry?"

* * *

It takes us about a day for us to set up the camp, and the first night, we all sleep around the main fire. Well, most of us do. The Peletiers—Carol, Sophia, and Ed—sleep away from the fire. I notice that Carol and Sophia pale when they see Ed coming close to them, and the way they flinch if he so much as moves his hand. If I had to guess, in what I've seen of him today, he hits them. They're abused. I'd recognize the signs anywhere.

I can't sleep, continuously tossing and turning. When I do sleep, it brings nightmares. At one point, I wake up, gasping, after having one of Glenn dying. I haven't even known the guy for two days, and I've already grown close to him. Close enough to know that I will do anything to keep him alive, like he's my brother. The way that my family's ending up, I don't think that it's a good thing.

I look around, watching to see if anyone saw me as I woke up. If anyone saw me in a state of weakness. Everyone is asleep, but I need to get away from them for a bit. I stand, walking over to the edge of the cliff. I look down at the quarry below, the moon's light glinting off its blue surface. I sit down on the edge, my legs dangling off the side.

"Daryl," I whisper, as if he's listening. "Daryl, if you're out there, if you're alive… please. Come find me. I can't do this without you. I need you here next to me. If I'm gonna survive this, then you need to be here with me. 'Cause I can't survive without you. I need my angel."

I look down, closing my eyes as an unwelcome tear leaks down from them. I silently curse myself. I can't bring myself to cry when I lose my best friend, but I'm crying because I was separated from my brother? What the hell is wrong with me?

I wipe my eyes, standing. I go back over to the group, lying down closer to Glenn than I had been before. I look over at him, falling asleep still facing him.

* * *

A week passes by at camp, and there is still no sign of Daryl, or Merle. Most nights, I spend an hour or more sitting on the cliff, alone. It's my spot, the place where I go when I need to be alone. For some reason, it calms me.

A week after the first night, I wake up, hearing a voice outside my tent. I immediately notice that the voice is frantic, but I don't process what he's saying. I crawl out of my sleeping bag, unzipping my tent. I run a hand through my hair, so it at least looks somewhat decent when I stomp their ass. The first good night's sleep I have, and some asshole ruins it. I'm not in the mood for the emotional shit.

I rub my eyes, trying to wake up a little, and I see Glenn running around the camp. _What the hell is he doing?_

He wears only pajama bottoms, and his hair is messy. It's obvious that he just woke up. The thing that catches me off guard, though, is the look in his eyes. Glenn's scared. It's then that I realize that it's my name that he's calling in a whisper. "Glenn," I say, and he turns to me. "What the hell are you doing? I was sleepin'."

Glenn suddenly wraps me in a hug, and I flinch at first. Then, I realize that he's not going to hurt me. But I still don't hug him back. I'm slightly uncomfortable, him being this close without a shirt. "Oh my god, Clary," he whispers, his voice shaking a little. "You're here."

"Where the hell else would I be?" I shoot back, as he pulls away. Then, when I see the way he's looking at me, I realize what he means. "Oh. I'm still here, Short Round. I'm not gone yet."

If it had been anyone else that hugged me, I would've stomped their ass. But Glenn, he's different. I gently take his hand, leading him to my spot on the cliff. We sit down next to each other, and he asks, "What is this place?"

"It's where I go when I need to think, or be alone," I tell him. "It calms me, in a way." He nods, keeping his eyes cast down, and I ask, "Hey, you okay?"

Glenn looks over at me, then, like a little kid, he says quietly, "I had a nightmare."

"I get 'em, too," I say softly, taking his hand. "What was it about?"

"You," Glenn replies. I cock my head to the side, silently questioning what he means. "I had a dream that you were attacked by the geeks. You know, them. And that you… died. It took place here, at camp. I was so scared it was real, Clary. I had to find you."

He rests his forehead on my shoulder, and I let him. I rub his back, his skin smooth and unmarked, unlike mine. "The first night here," I admit, "I had a nightmare that you were dead."

Glenn shakes, close to crying. "Hey," I say. "Look at me. Look at me, Glenn." He pulls back hesitantly, looking at me. "I'm right here. I ain't goin' nowhere. And I won't go down without a fight."

"Come with me tomorrow," Glenn says suddenly. "On the run."

"I would," I tell him. "But I need to hunt. We need fresh meat."

Glenn nods, and we stand. "Go back to bed, Glenn," I tell him. "I'm still kickin' ass and takin' names. Don't worry 'bout me."

We start back to our tents, and Glenn suddenly wraps me in another hug. I smile slightly, hugging him back. "I'll be here when the morning comes 'round," I tell him. "And if you need me, you know where to find me. I'll always be there for you."

We're getting ready to part when Glenn asks, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" I ask. "You mean hunt?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I mean, this. Surviving. You lost your brothers, and I want to think that I'm all you have, but, I mean, we just met. You're so brave, all the time. I've never seen you scared. You never falter, never break."

I look at him for a moment, silent. "It's all a facade."

I turn and walk into my tent, leaving him standing in the clearing, alone. About two hours later, while it's still dark out, I'm up again. This time, I'm getting ready to hunt. I lace up my boots, sitting alone in my tent meant for three. I look around it, suddenly feeling very alone. "God, Daryl," I whisper. "Where the hell are you?"

When I get no reply, I stand, sneaking out of camp with my crossbow on my back. I shoot a few squirrels early in the morning, stringing them on a cord and throwing it over my shoulder. A little after noon, I stop next to a creek, washing the squirrel blood off my hands. I look at my reflection in the creek, and I find a dirt-covered, dangerous-looking, survivor staring back at me. Is that all that I am now? A survivor that'll do anything to survive? Including killing?

I swipe my hand in the water, ripples blurring my reflection. I stand and walk off, back towards camp, hoping to find something more on the way back. When I'm not far from camp, I hear voices up ahead, and start forward. One's loud and obviously abusive, the other soft and quiet. I stop just inside the treeline, watching. A large, fat, pigheaded man stands over a frail woman that, a moment later, I realize is Carol, Sophia's mother. I see the young blonde girl cowering with her mother, both of them in the man's shadow. Ed, I remember his name being. Ed yells something that I don't quite catch, but I do catch him calling her a bitch.

My hand curls into a fist at his comment, and I snap when I see him slap her. Carol falls to the ground with the force of it, and Sophia remains standing, bravely facing Ed on her own. Ed starts to walk over to Sophia, raising his hand. "Oh hell no," I mutter.

I step into the clearing, picking up a small rock. It's not that big, about the size of a golf ball. I throw it at Ed, hitting him in the arm. "Hey, asshole!"

He turns to me as I start forward, and staggers back when I punch him in the face. "You little bitch," he hisses, gently touching his nose. "You'll pay for that."

Before I can react, he backhands me. I stumble to the side a step or two, but I don't fall. I've had practice before with things like this. I kick Ed in his balls, slightly surprised that he has any, and he falls to his knees. I punch him in the face, and he falls on his back. I kneel over him, punching him, ignoring my bloody knuckles. I put my knife at his neck, growling, "If you ever, _ever_, fucking touch them again, _I will fucking kill you_. I will not stop next time. You hear me? I'll beat you to death, Ed. I'll beat you to _death._"

"Who the hell are you?" he says, and I'm surprised he can still speak.

"I'm Clary fucking Dixon, you son of a bitch. And I'm your worst nightmare."

I remove my knife from his neck, punching him again for good measure. I stand, going over to Carol and Sophia, helping Carol to her feet. She sobs, staring at her husband. I lead them away, and Sophia looks up at me. "What did you just do?"

"If he _ever_ touches either of you," I say, my voice cold, "you come straight to _me_. Don't hesitate. 'Cause I won't. I'll kill the bastard, if it's the last thing I ever do."

"But _what did you do?"_ Sophia asks.

I reply, "I fixed what needed fixin'."

* * *

After the hunting incident with Ed, Sophia starts spending more time with me, and soon, so does Carl. A week passes, no sign of my brothers. I begin to worry that they didn't make it out, and I can't help but begin to wonder what the hell I'm going to do.

Carl and I sit next to each other at the fire one evening, about two and a half weeks after me and my brothers were separated, and I mess with the holes in my jeans. Anything to keep my mind off Glenn. "Worried about Glenn?" Carl inquires as if he can read my mind.

"He's never been gone this long," I reply, a little too quickly with a little too much emotion. _Don't show them, _I silently tell myself. _Don't let them see your weakness. Glenn's gonna be okay. Just because he's not back yet doesn't mean anything. He wouldn't leave you._

Most of the time, when Glenn goes on a run in the city, he's back before dark. Now, it's nearly midnight, and he's still gone. "I'm sure he's fine," Carl says.

I happen to glance over Carl's shoulder as I open my mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. "Clary?" Carl inquires, looking at me, concern in his voice.

"Daryl," I manage, seeing them. My two brothers stand with Shane, my eyes landing on the younger one. I scramble to my feet, calling, "Daryl!"

The dark-haired one with a crossbow turns, and I smile seeing him. His eyes go wide seeing me across the camp, and calls, "Clary?"

"Daryl!" I exclaim, not even bothering to restrain myself as I go sprinting across the camp. I pretty much launch myself into his arms, and Daryl wraps his arms around me, picking me up. I bury my face in his shoulder, my arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist. He hugs me back tightly, whispering, "I thought I lost you, Clars. I was so scared you were dead."

I'm close to crying in my brother's arms, refusing to let go of him. "Daryl," I whimper, his name all that I'm able to say. "Daryl."

"I'm right here," he replies. "I'm right here, Clars. And I ain't goin' nowhere." Over my shoulder, he says, "Thank you."

"No problem," I hear Glenn reply, and I look at him, still hanging on to Daryl. "This was you?" I ask. "You brought them here?"

He nods, and I let go of Daryl, hugging him. "Thank you, Glenn," I say. "Thank you so much."

"It's not a big deal," Glenn tells me, pulling back. "I'd do anything for my friends."

I smile at that, turning to look at Merle. I'm even happy to see him, surprisingly. "Hey, Merle."

He nods once, not one for showing any emotion, even when reunited with family. Daryl takes my hand, and we sit next to each other at the fire. I lean into him, my back pressing into his chest. I can feel his heart beating, his chest rising and falling with each breath. I take his hand, threading my fingers through his. With his free hand, he brushes my hair over my shoulder in a constant pattern. After a while, he stops, dropping his hand. Daryl puts his arm around me, almost protectively, gently pulling me closer to him. I yawn, resting my head on his shoulder. Daryl kisses my forehead, whispering, "Sleep now, Clars. I'm here. Angels are watching over you."

"I love you, Daryl," I whisper in reply, letting myself relax for the first time in a while. I fall asleep, safe in my brother's arms, before he can reply.

And that's the story of how I got to Atlanta. How I found in a brother in a Korean I dubbed Short Round. And, even though I didn't know it at the time, the story of how a kid named Carl became a part of me. It's also the story of how I came to be who I am. I guess you could say it's my origin story, 'cause every hero's got one, right?

Though, the thing is, I'm not sure if I really am the hero.

I'll let you be the judge of that.


	3. 2: Infested City

**Chapter 2: Infested City**

_**~Clary~**_

Glenn grins at me as he drives out of Atlanta, the blaring '80s rock on the stereo drowning out the screeching alarm. No, we're not thieves. Technically. I don't think that it counts as stealing anymore, so, therefore, we're not thieves. We're survivors, just some people that want to stay alive in a world where the dead walk.

We're always in need of supplies, so it seems like every other day, Glenn or I (sometimes both of us) make a run into the city, careful to avoid walkers. We never had a problem, until we decided to bring that small group with us. Everything went to hell when Rick showed up, shooting up the streets like it was the O.K. Corral.

I was honestly considering leaving Rick behind, seeing as he had no idea what in the holy hell he was doing, but he managed to help us out of the tight spot, which brings me to the car that Glenn and I are in. We had to lure walkers away from the front of the store so Rick could back the clunky cube van up to the store, getting the rest of the group out. Rick found us a car, and he may or may not have smashed a window, setting off the alarm, and hotwired it so we could use it. Either way, the combination of the ringing car alarm and Metallica blaring lured the walkers away, allowing us to escape from the infested city.

As we pull into the quarry camp, Dale, an old man that spends his days watching for walkers on top of his RV, shouts, "Holy crap! Turn that damn thing off!"

"I don't know how!" Glenn replies. The younger sister of Andrea, one of the girls on the run, runs to us, badgering us with questions about her sister. A former cop named Shane barks at us to "pop the damn hood," which, might I add, I'm already on. I climb out of the car window, because _The Dukes of Hazzard_ are always needed in the apocalypse, and Glenn looks at me for help answering Amy's rapid-fire questions. "Sorry, Short Round," I say, using the nickname I gave him when we first met because I didn't know his name. "This one's on you."

"Clary!" he whines. Before I can reply, Shane snaps, "Are you two crazy, driving this wailing bastard up here! Are you trying to draw every walker for miles?"

"I think we're okay," Dale says.

Shane looks at the old man over his shoulder. "You call being stupid 'okay?'"

"Well, the alarm was echoing all over these hills. It'd be hard to pinpoint the source." Shane turns around, glaring at him. _How dare you disagree with me. Me Shane. Me big and strong. Me alpha. _I smirk at my inner monologue of how I see Shane. "I'm not arguing, I'm just saying," Dale defends himself. He looks over at Glenn and I. "Wouldn't hurt you to think things through a little more carefully next time, would it?"

"Sorry," Glenn apologizes, gesturing to the Ram as I walk around it. "Got a cool car."

"It was the heat of the moment," I say as the cube van that Rick took pulls in behind us. Andrea's the first one out as it comes to a stop, the two blonde sisters running to meet each other. Jacqui climbs out, followed by Morales. His family runs to meet him, and I glance over at Carl Lori. I knew that he had lost his father in the beginning, like I did. The only difference is there was no love lost between my father and I, and quite a lot between Carl and his father. Carl looks over at me, and I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile. I turn towards the van as T-Dog climbs out. He was in charge of my eldest brother, Merle, who was handcuffed to the roof by Rick after he (A) fired at walkers, drawing more of them, and (B) started a fight, threatening to shoot T-Dog. What can I say, my brother is an asshole. I glance around him for Merle, then lift my gaze to T-Dog's. "T," I say. "Where's Merle?"

"I dropped the key," he says. "I'm sorry."

"Son of a bitch!" I shout, turning and punching the first thing I see. Which happens to be the side of the car we stole. Glenn reaches over, grabbing my wrists before I can punch the car again. He holds my wrists together, looking at my hands. I tune out the others as Glenn lifts his gaze up to mine, quietly asking me, "Why the hell did you think that punching a car would be a good idea?"

"I didn't," I tell him. "You know me, I don't think. I act. And then worry about the consequences later."

Before either of us can say anything else, Carl shouts, "Dad!"

Glenn and I turn as Carl takes off, running towards Rick. "Son of a dick," I say, surprised. I watch as Carl throws his arms around Rick, who hugs him back, looking dumbfounded. "I didn't see that coming."

* * *

_Merle's a tough son of a bitch. He'll be alright,_ I remind myself as I walk through the woods with Carl and Sophia, attempting to clear my mind of Merle's current state. However, that only results in me worrying about him more. Merle and I aren't close. That's my other brother, Daryl, and I. To be honest, Merle's a bit of a jackass. Well, "a bit" doesn't quite cut it. Still, Merle's family. There are fifteen years between Daryl and I (a lot, I know), but we're still close. Daryl and I are a lot alike, and we're nothing like Merle. Daryl hunts, trying to find food for the camp, I go on runs for supplies, and Merle, the lazy bastard, just sits on his ass doing nothing. Oh yes, he's very helpful. Still, we'd do anything for family. Merle's eight, almost nine, years older than Daryl, and they aren't close, but we're Dixons, and Dixons stick together.

"You okay, Clary?" Carl asks, nudging my arm to get my attention. I glance ahead of us at Sophia, who's two years younger than us, as she runs around in the forest. I look back over at Carl, giving him a small nod. "I'm fine," I tell him. "I just hope Daryl gets back soon, you know?"

Before Carl can say anything, Sophia screams. We look ahead of her, only to find a walker feeding on a dead deer. _The hell? Walkers never come this far up the mountain, _I think as Sophia turns and runs to us, screaming for her mother, Carol. Sophia takes Carl's hand as she reaches us, as he shouts for Rick and Lori. She tugs on his hand, trying to get him to run away. I start to pull out my knife, which I always have on me, but Carl takes my wrist, looking me in the eyes. "Just run, Dixon!" he barks. "They'll take care of it."

He pulls me with them without waiting for an answer, Sophia leading us back to camp. I nearly shout for Merle, then remember he's chained to the roof in the walker-infested city previously known as Atlanta. Instead, I yell, "Glenn!"

As we near the camp, I can hear the others running through the woods towards us. Glenn momentarily stops, checking to make sure I'm alright ("Why wouldn't I be, Short Round?"), before he sends me, along with Carl and Sophia, back to camp. I follow the two inside Dale's RV, sitting next to Carl and across from Sophia. _"Shit,"_ I hiss.

"What is it?" Sophia asks.

"Walkers are coming up the mountain and Daryl is out there alone."

About that time, I hear my brother's voice ringing out from camp. "Clary! Merle!" he calls. "Get your asses out here! I got squirrels!"

I shoot to my feet, knowing that Daryl's gonna freak when he hears what happened in the city. "Daryl!" Shane calls, then lowers his voice as he tries to explain to Daryl what happened. Shane's not the best with things like that, I've found. Especially when he shouts, "Watch the knife!"

"Oh, shit," I mutter, scrambling out the door. I find Daryl going after Rick with his knife, and shout, "Daryl!"

Daryl stops long enough to look at me, and Shane takes the opportunity. He knocks the knife out of my brother's hand, putting him in a chokehold. "Hey!" I exclaim as I run to Daryl's aid. "Chokeholds are illegal!"

I kick Shane in the side, and he lets go of Daryl, falling to the ground. He looks up at me as he places one hand over his ribs. "It's illegal to assault a police officer," he says.

"File a complaint, jackass," Daryl snaps, scrambling to his feet. He beat me by one second, so I change direction and say, "Why don't you go book 'em, Danno?"

Daryl and I stand back to back as Shane scrambles to his feet, glaring. Shane and I have never been on good terms, and I don't think I helped the situation. Oh well, he's an asshole, anyway. "Daryl, Clary, your brother was a danger to us all," Rick says. "Clary, you know that. You were there."

"Don't mean he deserved to get left behind," I reply.

"It's my fault," T-Dog says. "I dropped the key."

"Couldn't you just pick it up?" Daryl exclaims, turning towards him.

"I dropped it down a drain. But, when I ran, I stopped long enough to chain the door with a padlock. The staircase is narrow. No more than six walkers can fit in it at one time. And that ain't enough to break the chain or padlock."

"What's your point?"

"Merle is still up there, still alive."

"He better be," Daryl snaps. He drops his guard, and Shane, being the cocky son of a bitch that he is, decides to take a swing. Surprised, Daryl doesn't block it. I step in to block the blow, but I don't raise my guard in time. Shane's fist connects with my jaw, and, off balance, I fall back into my brother. Yeah, that's not gonna help. Daryl sticks up for me, and if someone hurts me, well, they get it, to say the least. My brother puts one arm around me, pushing me behind him. Shane knows he fucked up when Daryl turns to face him, throwing a punch that knocks Shane on his ass.

I grab Daryl's arm, pulling him back towards as Shane gets to his feet. "He ain't worth it, Daryl," I whisper.

Daryl growls, "You touch my sister again, I'll kill you."

"Okay, Sonny," I say, gently rubbing my jaw. "Take it easy, man."

Daryl glances at me. "You caught that, didn't you?"

I give a nod as Daryl sends another death glare to Shane, then turns to Rick. His voice cracks as he says, "Just tell me where he is, so I can go get him."

"He'll show you," Lori says.

Rick nods. "I'm going back."

"Then you won't be goin' alone," Daryl says, then walks off before anyone can say anything. Glenn, knowing the streets, volunteers to go with them. T-Dog, who feels like it's only right that he goes as well, joins them at the back of the cube van about ten minutes later, where Daryl and I argue about whether or not I'm going along.

"Daryl, if you're going, then I should be going, too," I try. "I know the streets."

"We got Glenn. He knows the streets. You don't need to risk yourself."

"Daryl!"

"I don't want to hear it," he replies. He sighs, pulling me off to the side and dropping his voice to a whisper. "Clary, you'll be safe here. I don't want to risk losing you in the city. I couldn't take it if I lost you, too."

"Okay," I finally agree. "Just be careful. Please."

Daryl nods before he pulls me into a quick hug, kissing my forehead and saying, "I'll be back."

"Enough with you quotin' the classics," I say, then grin as I add, "I know."

"Ooh," Daryl says, catching my _Star Wars_ reference as I walk him back to the truck. "Nice one."

"Ford always gets a pass," I say, turning away from him and facing Glenn. "Stay safe, will you?"

"Clary, I'm going into a city infested by the undead to rescue your crackpot brother with a pair of bolt cutters," Glenn deadpans, holding up the tool they're borrowing from Dale. "Nothing is safe."

"Well, then don't get bit," I say. I glance over at Daryl, who is now out of earshot. I look back up at Glenn, saying, "He'll do anything to get Merle back. You know that, right? Keep an eye on him for me, will you? And make sure they both come back in one piece. You, too."

"You got it," Glenn says. He looks over at the car, where Dale and a former mechanic, Jim, are currently stripping the car we stole. "Make sure they don't fully destroy her?"

"I think they already have," I say, taking another look at it. I look back up at him. "We'll steal another one day. One that's cooler."

"Promise?" Glenn inquires, grinning.

"I know how to hotwire," I confirm. I glance at Daryl, then to Glenn. "You better get goin'. He's gettin' impatient. Impatient Daryl is not a very good Daryl to be around."

Just as I say that, Daryl presses his foot against the horn, sounding it. He shouts to the others, "Come on! Let's go already!"

Glenn looks at me, impressed that I knew it was coming. He climbs up in the cube van with Daryl, taking the passenger seat while Rick slides behind the wheel. T-Dog joins Daryl in the back, and my brother nods once as he closes the door. I step back as they drive away, and Carl comes over, followed closely by Carol and Sophia. "Hey, you okay?" Carl asks. "Looks like you took a hard hit back there."

"I'm good," I say, turning to look at him. "I've had worse. It's nothin', really."

Carol frowns as I say that, and I lean away from Carl as he reaches to move my hair out of my face, looking at the bruise that I know is already starting to form. "I'm fine, Carl," I say, then glance down the cliff to the crystal blue water below. "Lake?"

He nods once, going to tell his mom that he'll be down at the lake if she needs him. Sophia looks up at Carol, who nods before she can ask. I give a small smile to Carol. The woman is afraid of her own shadow, but she'll still do whatever to protect her daughter. "I'll race you guy down," I say as we start down the path. "First one there wins."

We all line up, Carl grinning at Sophia and I. I wink at Sophia, then nod once towards Carl, and she seems to understand. "Ready," she starts.

"Set," Carl adds.

"Go," I say, and with that, we take off.

* * *

That evening, I sit next to Carl around the main fire, still grinning. He wears different clothes than he was wearing before our trip down to the lake. He thought that he was the victor, but, well, Sophia and I had other plans. The look on his face when we pushed him in was priceless. "I'll get you back," Carl says, looking over at me. "I will be avenged."

"Keep tellin' yourself that," I challenge. "I'm much to fast for you."

"I think I can keep up."

I look over at him. "You better run, Grimes."

"I intend to," he replies, and we both blush, glancing away. Lori says something to him that I don't quite catch, and he shakes his head. "No, she won't."

Curious as I am, I turn my attention to the group as Morales asks Dale about why he turns his watch every day, at the exact same time. It just so happens that I'm more curious about why Dale turns his watch every day like a "village priest saying mass" than about what Lori and Carl are talking about. "I've wondered this myself," Jacqui adds, and we all nod our agreement.

"I'm missing the point," Dale says.

"Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end," I say, then shrug. "But, you know, maybe I'm wrong about that."

Lori chuckles as Jacqui adds, "It's, at least, hit a speed bump for a good long while."

"But there's you, every day, winding that stupid watch," Morales says.

"Time," Dale says. "It's important to keep track, isn't it? The days, at least." Dale turns to Andrea. "Don't you think, Andrea? Back me up here." Andrea says nothing, simply taking a swig of beer. Dale turns back to the rest of us. "I like what, um, the father said to the son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through the generations."

"'And shepherd we shall be?'" I inquire, automatically thinking of the "family prayer" from _The Boondock Saints._ Morales chuckles, obviously understanding the reference.

"What?" Dale inquires. "No. He said, 'I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father's before me. I give it to you, not that so you may remember time, but so you may forget it for a moment, now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.'"

We're all silent following Dale's speech, and Amy breaks it by saying, "You are so weird."

The Morales family chuckles, and Dale says, "It's not me. It's Faulkner. William Faulkner."

"Ah, Faulkner," I say. "'My mother is a fish.'"

"Wrong book," Dale tells me. "Maybe it was my bad paraphrasing."

We go back to eating the fish that Andrea and Amy caught, talking quietly amongst ourselves. Suddenly, Amy lets out an ear-piercing scream. We turn to see a walker biting her arm, and I drop my plate, drawing my knife as I say, "Oh, _shit!"_

People start screaming as more walkers surround us. Yes, that is totally gonna help. Fan-friggin-tastic job, guys. Lori and Carl take cover, and Shane pushes me down next to them. He begins firing at the walkers taking over the camp. I quickly notice that more of the survivors are being killed by the dead than the ones surviving them.

I notice a walker stumbling towards Morales from behind, and shout, "'ales, get down!"

He ducks without waiting for an explanation, and I throw my knife. It hits its target, and the walker goes down. Morales gives me a nod of thanks, and I feel a living hand in mine. I turn to see Carol taking my hand, pulling me with her, Sophia, Lori, and Carl as they make their way towards the RV, Shane covering them. She releases her hold on my hand as soon as she sees that I'm coming with them. Shane barks orders to the survivors, ordering them to make their way towards the RV.

A walker that Shane missed and I didn't see is almost on me. I shriek in surprise as it grabs my arm, trying to pull away. I feel another hand on my arm, this one living, and realize that it belongs to none other than Carl Grimes. He tries to pull me back, and the walker tries to pull me towards it. Even with two people pulling away, the walker isn't letting go. I catch a glimpse of a knife handle protruding from the back of its skull, and it drops to the ground. Off balance from trying to pull away, I fall back into Carl. He wraps his arms around me, breathing a sigh of relief. I look down towards the walker and see Daryl behind it. He threw the knife. He's the only other person that knows how to. "Daryl!" I cry, staring down at him.

The group that went into Atlanta is back. They take down the remaining walkers, and the corpses grow still once again. The way they should be. Daryl drops his crossbow as soon as it's over, and I run down to him, leaping over a walker body or two on my way down. He picks me up, spinning around once so he doesn't fall over, while I bury my face in his neck. "I can't leave you alone for six hours," he says, his humor dry. "Dear Lord, Clary."

"Never goes well, does it?" I reply as he sets me down. I glance around him for our older brother, then up at him. "Where's Merle?"

Daryl pauses for a moment. "We couldn't find him, Clary."


	4. 3: Wildfire

**Chapter 3: Wildfire**

_**~Clary~**_

I kneel next to Andrea as she leans over her sister's dead body. Andrea doesn't acknowledge me when I kneel, she just keeps her green eyes focused on Amy. I put my hand on her shoulder, and wipe my eyes. "I know that most of the time, it's not true when they say 'I know how you feel,' but I really do know how you feel. I know how it feels to lose a sibling. Amy was a great person, she really was. We all loved her. I'm sorry for your loss, but you're going to have to let us take her. I promise that we'll be as gentle as possible, okay?"

She doesn't say anything, so I get up and walk back over to Shane, Lori, Dale, Carol, and Rick. "She still won't move?" Rick asks.

"She won't even talk to us. She's been there all night," I say. "What do we do?"

"We can't just leave Amy like that. We have to deal with it, same as the others," Shane says.

Rick nods. "I'll tell her how it is."

He walks towards Andrea and starts to kneel next to her. She whips around, aiming her handgun at Rick. "I know how the safety works."

"All right, okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Rick says and walks backward, saying the same thing over and over. She slowly drops her handgun, then returns her attention to her dead sister. He walks back over and Daryl comes over, holding the pickaxe he's been using to prevent the others from reanimating. "Y'all can't be serious. You're just gonna let that girl hamstring us?"

"He's right," I say. "Amy's a time bomb. She could wake up at any second."

Rick looks from Daryl to I, and back to Daryl. "What do you suggest?"

"Take the shot," Daryl says. "Clean, in the brain from here. I could hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," Lori objects. "For God's sakes, let her be."

Daryl walks away, and I swing my crossbow back over my shoulder. I slide my gloves back on to help with the bodies. My brother walks past Jim, who's staring at the ground. "Wake up, Jimbo, we got work to do."

Jim nods and Daryl goes to help Morales with the body of a man. They drag him towards the pile where walkers are burning, and Glenn watches them burn. He looks over to see the men dragging the body. "Hey, what are you guys doing? This is for geeks. Our people go over there," Glenn says, pointing, and they stop to look up at the young Korean.

"What's the difference? They're all infected," Daryl says.

"Our people go on that row over there. We don't—" Glenn's voice cracks, "we don't burn them! We..." Glenn sighs, and his voice returns to normal. "We bury them."

Daryl and Morales don't move. "Daryl," I call. "Our people go in the other row."

Daryl sighs, but he helps Morales move the body nonetheless. "You reap what you sow."

"You know what?" Morales says. "Shut up, man."

"Y'all left my brother for dead," Daryl cries, furious with the group. "You had this coming."

He walks off to go pick up his pickaxe, and I help Glenn move some of the walker bodies. "Thanks," he says.

I look up at him. "What?"

"Thanks. For siding with me and not Daryl."

"I side with who's right, not my brother. We don't burn our people, we bury them, right?"

We throw a walker onto the fire. "Right," Glenn agrees. "We bury them."

Before I can reply, Jacqui calls out, "A walker bit Jim!"

We turn, all of us staring at Jim. "I'm okay," Jim claims.

"Show it to us," Daryl orders.

Jim takes a step back and turns to pick up a shovel. "Grab him," Daryl says.

Jim waves the shovel at the others, attempting the keep them back. T-Dog grabs him from behind, knocking the shovel out of his hands. Daryl comes over and pulls up his t-shirt, revealing a walker bite. Daryl walks away as T-Dog lets go of Jim, and I take the shovel. I walk over with Daryl, the shovel over my shoulder, and Jim keeps insisting that he's okay. Daryl, T-Dog, Carol, Shane, Lori, Carol, Rick, Morales, Jacqui, Dale and I stand in a circle off to the side after convincing Jim to sit down. "I say we put a pickaxe in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it," Daryl says.

Shane looks up at him. "Is that what you'd want if it were you?"

"Yeah, and I'd thank you while you did it."

"I hate to say it—I never thought I would," Dale says, "but maybe Daryl's right."

"Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog," Rick says. "He's sick, a sick man. We start down that road, and where do we draw the line?"

"The line's pretty clear," I say. "Zero tolerance for walkers."

"Or them to be," Daryl adds.

"What if we can get him help?" Rick asks. "I heard the CDC was working on a cure."

"Heard that, too. Actually, I heard a lot of things before the world went to hell," Daryl says, then gesture to me. "We heard Atlanta was safe. It wasn't—_isn't_."

"But what if the CDC is up and running?"

"Man, that is a stretch right there," Shane says.

"Why?" Rick inquires. "If there's any government left, anything at all, they'd protect the CDC at all costs, wouldn't they? I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection, rescue—"

"Okay, Rick, you want those things, and I do too. If they exist, they're at the army base. That's Fort Benning, a hundred miles in the opposite direction. But it's away from the hot zone. If that place is working, then it'll be heavily armed, and we'll be safe there."

"The military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun. We've all seen it. The CDC is our best choice and Jim's only chance."

We're quiet for a moment, and Daryl and I look at each other, and we have a silent understanding of what needs to be done. Daryl walks off, and I remain with the group, distracting them as I say, "Y'all go lookin' for aspirin, do what you need to do. Meanwhile, someone else has the balls to take care of this damn problem."

"Fuck," Shane curses. He and Rick rush around me, running to reach Daryl before Daryl reaches Jim. I follow behind them, trying to stop them, but they reach Daryl first. Rick puts a gun to my brother's head, and I immediately raise my crossbow on him. "Hey!" Rick snaps. "We don't kill the living."

Daryl doesn't move, instead staring down the barrel of Rick's Python. He retorts, "That's funny coming from a man who just put a gun to my head."

"Make a damn move, helicopter boy," I growl, not even caring that it's Carl's dad, not when Daryl's in danger.

"Tell your brother to lower the damn pickax first."

Daryl meets my eyes, giving me a small nod. At once, we lower our weapons. Rick lowers his a moment later, the former cops remaining with Jim as Daryl and I stalk off. I keep my voice low as I mutter, "I tried. They don't understand we're doing the right thing."

"He's gonna die and turn," Daryl replies.

"And he's gonna kill someone."

* * *

Shane declares we'll follow Rick's plan of going to the CDC, hoping to find help for Jim. Daryl lies back on his cot in the middle of our tent, eyes closed but not asleep. I push my cot next to his, and Daryl lifts his head, asking, "What're you doing?"

"I just... I need to be next to you," I reply. I lay down, curling up at his side, my head on his chest.

"I got you, sweetheart," Daryl murmurs, wrapping his arm around me.

"Daryl, do you think that Rick's decision is right? About going to the CDC?" Daryl sighs softly, not answering. "Daryl?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I don't really know if it's a debate about what's right anymore. It's about the danger. Everywhere we go, there's always going to be some danger."

"So do you think that the CDC's the least dangerous option?"

"Well..." Daryl sighs. "It's closer. That means less time on the road, less risk there. And if they _are_ working on a cure, I'd rather be where the cure is rather than with a bunch of soldiers."

"I mean, it's a shot in the dark, either way. We don't even know if the CDC is still standing."

"I know," Daryl murmurs. "That's why I'm not too thrilled about going there and risking you, but we can't stay here any longer."

"So are we going?" I ask, tilting my head up to look at him.

"I think it's our best option," Daryl says. "Get some sleep, sweetheart. Angels are watching over you."

* * *

We left the quarry camp the next morning, everyone but Morales and his family going. I ride with Daryl in his truck, Merle's motorcycle in the back, and the others split up in the remaining vehicles. After traveling for a while, we have to stop because of Dale's RV. While Dale checks out the problem, Rick goes inside the RV to speak with Jim. Daryl and I get out of the truck when we see Rick emerge to speak with the small group that has gathered by the door.

We reach them, Rick saying, "That's what he said he wants."

"And he's lucid?" Carol asks, and Rick nods.

"Back in the camp, when I said Daryl might be right, you shut me down," Dale speaks up, "you misunderstood. I would never go along with callously killing a man. I was going to suggest asking Jim what he wants. I think we have an answer."

After a little more discussion, Rick and Shane carry Jim to the base of a tree. Jim leans back against the bark, tilting his head back as he says, "Look, another damn tree."

Jim chuckles at his own joke, and Shane tries to talk him out of staying behind, without prevail. One by one, everyone says their goodbyes. Daryl and I stand at the back until everyone has gone back to their vehicles. I give Jim a peace sign. "No hard feelings, right?"

Jim returns the peace sign with one of his own. "No hard feelings."

* * *

Daryl and I follow everyone else out of their vehicles, the CDC just up ahead. The place looks like a damn warzone in the aftermath of a battle. Tanks and other military vehicles are left abandonded, the bodies of soldiers and civilians scattered across the lawn leading towards the CDC. I guess they proabably weren't civilians when they died on the CDC's lawn.

We step around the multitude of bodies, and Rick pounds on the closed doors. "There's nobody here," T-Dog says.

"Then why are these shutters down?" Rick asks.

"Walkers!" Daryl calls. I turn and see more walkers coming. Daryl fires at one and I fire at another, and Rick pounds on the doors. Everyone starts yelling at each other, and Shane says we need to leave. We start to walk away, still yelling, but one sentence from Rick rings out above the rest: "The camera, it moved!"

I turn back to him. "What?"

Shane tries to convince Rick that it didn't move, and the darkness outside grows. Shane pulls Rick away, and Rick keeps yelling at the camera. "You're killing us!"

Rick finally turns away, Shane dragging him after the rest of us. Then, the doors open and a bright light streams out.


	5. 4: TS-19

**Chapter 4: TS-19**

_**~Clary~**_

The light dies down, and we enter, weapons raised. "Dixon, cover the back," Shane commands.

Daryl and I back in, making sure no walkers follow us. "Hello?" Rick calls. "Hello?"

"Close those doors," Dale tells my brother and I. "Watch for walkers."

Daryl keeps his crossbow raised while I make my way forward, then pull the doors shut. Daryl and I turn back towards the group and find that we're in a large, spacious lobby. The CDC's lobby. "Hello?" Rick calls again.

A gun suddenly cocks, and those carrying raise their weapons towards the sound. There's a man standing there in sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, holding a machine gun. He looks to be in his mid-forties with blonde hair. "Anybody infected?" he calls.

"One of our group was," Rick answers. "He didn't make it."

The man takes a step closer. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"A chance," Rick tells him.

"That's asking an awful lot these days." His words ring true. Nowadays, having a chance is like winning the lottery before. In other words, nearly impossible.

"I know," Rick says as the man takes a couple of steps closer.

The man looks around at our group. Some have faces of hope, some of grief, and others, like myself, are impossible to read. "You all submit to a blood test," the man says. "That's the price of admission."

"We can do that," Rick confirms.

The man drops his gun. "You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed."

A few of us look at each other, then run outside, back to the vehicles. We grab the bags and run back inside. T-Dog and Dale hold the doors open for us, then close them once we're all in. The man, a scientist, slides his card through a device on the wall, then says, "Vi, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here."

The metal doors close, and the lights go out. Rick faces the scientist. "Rick Grimes."

"Dr. Edwin Jenner," the scientist replies. He leads us to a large elevator, and we all pile in. We're silent as the elevator goes down, and Daryl breaks it by saying, "Doctors always go around packing heat like that?"

"There were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself," Jenner answers. "But you look harmless enough." He looks down at Carl. "Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you."

Jenner chuckles at his own joke, while Carl looks at me. I give him a small smile that he returns, and the elevator stops. Jenner leads us down a corridor, where the only sound is the echo of footsteps coming from the other members of the group. Daryl and I tread lightly, a habit picked up from hunting that serves us well in this world. "Are we underground?" Carol inquires.

"Are you claustrophobic?" Jenner replies, answering her question with a question.

"A little."

"Try not to think about it," Jenner recommends. We enter a large room with computers, a research lab. "Vi, bring up the lights in the big room."

There's a humming and beeping as the lights in the big room, as Jenner put it, come on, revealing empty workstations. "Welcome to Zone 5," Jenner says, leading us down the ramp to the ground.

"Where is everybody?" Rick inquires. "The other doctors, the staff?"

"I'm it. It's just me here. I'm the only one left."

"What about the person you were speaking with?" Lori inquires. "Vi?"

"Vi, say hello to our guests," the last scientist says. "Tell them… welcome."

"Hello, guests. Welcome," a computer voice says.

"I'm all that's left," Jenner repeats. "I'm sorry."

* * *

"What's the point?" Andrea inquires as Jenner draws some of her blood. "If we were infected, we'd all be running a fever."

"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you in here," Jenner replies. "Let me just at least be thorough." Jenner pulls the syringe away from her arm. "All done." Andrea stands and sways on her feet. Jacqui moves to help steady her as the last scientist says, "Are you okay?"

Andrea nods, and Jacqui says, "She hasn't eaten in days. None of us have."

* * *

Later on, we all sit around a table in a break room, laughing and eating. I chuckle as Dale continues to try to persuade Lori into letting Carl drink wine for the first time. "You know, in Italy," Dale says, "children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France."

"Mm," Lori says as if impressed by the fact. "And when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then."

"Oh, come on," Rick says to her. "What's it gonna hurt?"

"Oh, look at you, Officer Friendly," I say. "Encouragin' under-age drinking. Good for you." I bring my hands together in a quick clap. "Two claps for you."

"Well, why don't you have some, too," Dale says, shooting a glance at Daryl.

"Don't gotta ask for my blessin'," Daryl says. "I was drinking' when I was her age. But, if my baby sister's havin' her first drink, it ain't gonna be some wine shit."

So, while Carl gets a glass of wine, I get a glass of whiskey. I don't admit to it not being my first drink, having stolen one of Shane's beers during one of the dinners back at camp. I take a drink of it, screwing my nose up at the taste. It's not as bad as I expected. Carl tastes his wine, and immediately sets the glass down, shaking his head in disgust. "Eww," he says.

That gets a laugh from everyone, while I grin at him over the rim of my glass, taking another drink. "Showoff," he says, wiping his mouth with his hand.

"Thank you, Grimes," I say simply.

"Dixon."

"City boy."

"Hillbilly."

"Ooh, you've gone too far," I say, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Still don't see how you can drink that," he says.

"Here, I guarantee you'll like it better," I tell him, walking around the table to give him my glass. He takes a drink from it, then screws up his nose at the taste.

"Better than the wine," he announces. "But still no."

"That's my boy," Lori says, while the others laugh at our bickering. Carl hands the glass back over to me and I walk back over to lean on a table beside Daryl. Lori pours the rest of Carl's wine into her cup.

"Just stick to soda-pop, bud," Shane suggests.

"Not you, Glenn," Daryl says, looking at him from across the room. "Keep drinkin', little man. I wanna see how red your face can get."

We all laugh, and I raise my glass, saying, "I'll drink to that."

Daryl swings his arm around my neck, ruffling my hair. "That's my baby sis."

"Get off," I say, but laugh.

Rick clinks his knife against his glass, and we all quiet down. He stands, saying, "It seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly."

"He is more than just our host," T-Dog says, raising his glass.

"Hear, hear," Dale says, raising his glass, and we all follow his lead.

"Here's to ya, Doc," my brother says, raising his whiskey bottle. "Booyah!"

This sends up an echo of "Booyah!" and I raise my glass, saying, "Hells yeah. Here's to ya."

Rick looks at Jenner, thanking him properly, and the doctor raises his glass in reply. Shane ruins our good mood by saying, "So when you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?"

"Way to kill the mood, ass-hat," I snap, glaring at him.

"All the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened," Shane continues as if I didn't speak. "Where are they?"

"We're celebrating, Shane," Rick tells him, his voice full of warning. "Don't need to do this now."

"Whoa, wait a second. This is why we're here, isn't it?" Shane asks, clearly challenging Rick. "This was your move, wasn't it? To come here and find all the answers. Instead, we find him. We found one man. Why?"

Jenner is quick to oblige. "Well, when things got bad, a lot of people left. They went to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."

"Every last one?" Shane questions.

Jenner is a bit more hesitant this time, but when he does, he looks at Shane and says rather harshly, "No. Many couldn't face walking out that door. They... opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."

"You didn't leave," Andrea says, stating the obvious. _No shit, Sherlock, _I think. "Why?"

"I just kept working," he tells us. "Hoping to do some good."

"Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man," Glenn says, and I raise my glass in agreement.

* * *

Jenner leads us through a corridor, telling us what we need to know about the CDC. "Most of the facility is powered down, including housing, so you'll have to make do here," he says. "The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like. There's a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy. Just don't plug in the video games, or anything that draws power. The same applies—" he looks over his shoulder at the adults "—if you shower, go easy on the hot water."

With that, the doctor walks off, and Glenn turns around, looking at us. "Hot water?"

"That's what the man said," T-Dog says, grinning.

"Where the hell is the nearest shower?" I ask. We all take off into different rooms, Daryl and I taking one on the end. We drop our duffle bags off on the couch, and I open my mouth to say I call the shower when my brother disappears into the bathroom. "Hey, I was gonna call the bathroom," I say.

"Relax, I'll be five minutes," comes his reply. I plop down on the couch, digging out my clothes and shampoo from my bag. Five minutes later, Daryl walks out of the bathroom, his hair wet, and I walk in. The hot water is the best thing I've felt in the weeks since the beginning of the outbreak.

"Oh my god," I sigh, letting the hot water run down over my body. I run my hands through my newly cleaned hair, pushing the water off my face and letting more fall on it. I finish my shower, but I stand under the running hot water for at least another minute. "Jesus Christ, that's amazing," I mutter to myself.

I reluctantly shut the water off, not wanting to step out from the warm stream, but I climb out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself. I start to get dressed, and I actually get a good look at myself in the mirror. I'm so thin I can actually count my ribs. There's not much to eat in the apocalypse, and I'm a perfect example of it. But I really don't mind. I run off of adrenaline rather than food, so I gladly give up my food to my group. To my friends.

I finish getting dressed, pulling on cut off shorts and a shirt Daryl gave me not long ago. I walk out of the room and nearly walk into Shane, who ignores me and continues to his room with a friend named Jim Bean. I somehow wind up in the rec room, where Carl and Sophia play checkers (Carl letting Sophia win), and Carol browses books in the small library. "Knock knock," I say, announcing my presence.

Sophia and Carl look up, the latter grinning, and Carol leans out from behind a shelf to see me. "Anything good?" I inquire.

"A couple things," she says quietly. Despite me being friends with her daughter, Carol is rather shy around both my brother and I. "Some classics, among other things. Also, books with titles I can't pronounce." I smirk at that. "There's _War of the Worlds_, H. G. Wells."

_"_Oh, I love that movie."

_"Gone with the Wind_, Margaret Mitchell," Carol continues. "_Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_, Jules Verne. _The Outsiders_, S. E. Hinton. _The Hunger Games_. I think you'd like that one, Katniss."

"Did you really just say that?"

"I'm sorry," Carol says. "I didn't mean to insult you."

"Insult me? Are you kidding? That was brilliant." Carol smiles at me, and I say, "Did you say _The Outsiders_?"

"Yep," Carol replies, pulling a copy off the shelf.

I take it from her, saying, "It's my favorite book."

"We read that in school last year," Carl says. "I like Ponyboy."

"'Stay gold, Ponyboy,'" I say, looking over at him. "'Stay gold.'"

"Now that's just mean," Sophia giggles.

I look over at her. "Who do you like then?"

"Two-Bit. You remind me of Two-Bit, Clary. Is he your favorite?" I shake my head, causing Sophia to ask, "Who?"

"Well, not gonna lie, the first time I read it," I admit, "I had a bit of a crush on Dally. And Matt Dillon was pretty cute the '80s, too."

Carol gives a little nod of her head that says, _Yeah, that's true._ Sophia questions, "So Dally's your favorite?"

"No," I say with a shake of my head. "Johnny."

"Johnny?" Carl repeats. "Why?"

"I don't know, just do," I say, slightly defensively. I don't want to tell them that Johnny and I are alike in too many ways. I don't want them to know who I really am. I leave the rec room, book in my hand. I turn when I hear a voice coming from a room I just passed. "Don't make me drink alone," Glenn says. "Or are you just gonna sit and read?"

He holds a full bottle of whiskey. I consider it for a moment before following him into his room; he could be a dick when he's drunk, like my dad was. But Glenn doesn't strike me as that kind of person. When I enter, he closes the door behind me, and then plops down in the middle of the room. He pats the floor across from him, and I sit, my legs crossed. Glenn sits the bottle of whiskey between the two of us after opening it. "You, me, a bottle of whiskey, and Never Have I Ever," Glenn says.

I crease my eyebrows. "What's Never Have I Ever?"

"What are you, a hermit? You've never heard of Never Have I Ever?"

"I have friends."

_You have three friends, Clary. Glenn, Carl, and Sophia. Three. Maybe four if you count Carol as a friend rather than the first maternal figure you're ever had._

"A hermit with friends?" Glenn challenges.

"Hermits United. We get together every few years and talk about caves. It's quite fun, for a hermit."

"You are so odd, Clary Dixon," he says with a smile.

"Thank you, Glenn Rhee," I say. "So, how do you play?"

"It's simple, you say 'Never have I ever' and then you finish the sentence. If it's something you did you drink, if it's something you never did, you don't drink."

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"Learn by example. Never have I ever shot a crossbow. I'm not gonna make you drink since it's just an example, but you would drink because you've shot a crossbow. Want to go first?"

"Sure. Never have I ever been mistaken for Chinese."

Glenn drinks. "Never have I ever gave anyone a nickname based on their race."

"C'mon, Short Round's awesome," I say, taking a drink. "Wait, do I have to take a drink for each time I've called you Short Round?"

"I'm not gonna make you. You'd drink half the bottle."

"I haven't called you Short Round that much! Jerk."

"Jackass," Glenn replies. And so, for the next hour or two, Glenn and I nurse a bottle of whiskey while playing a drinking game that results in hilarious revelations, and secrets not to be shared. We continue the game until Glenn comes very close to passing out, at which I take the bottle and he lies down on the couch. I laugh at him as I leave the room, book in one hand and bottle of booze in the other.

I enter the room I share with Daryl, and the first thing I see is him asleep on the floor. He must've drunk so much that he became what he calls "shit-faced drunk." I place a pillow under my brother's head and a blanket over him. I've done it before, when he fell asleep on the couch. He looks younger, more peaceful, and not the troubled, abused man that I know he is. I like seeing him when he's asleep. I can almost forget about everything that we've been through.

I plop down on the couch, finishing the mostly empty bottle before falling asleep.

* * *

When I wake, I'm still on the couch, but there's a blanket draped over me and the empty bottle is gone. I have a splitting headache, like I expected. Daryl isn't in the room. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. The door to the bathroom opens, and Daryl steps out. His hair is wet from the shower, and a towel is wrapped around him. "Mornin', Drinkin' Beauty," he says, a grin on his face. "Not bad for a first-timer."

"Shut up," I groan, rubbing my temples, which causes my brother to laugh. Instead of speaking, I flip him off. I get a shower while my brother gets dressed, putting my long, wet hair into a braid. I walk out of the room to leave for breakfast since Daryl already left, and Carl looks up when I enter. "Are you hungover?" Carl asks when I pass him.

"You are like Two-Bit," Sophia giggles. Instead of responding, I hit Carl in the back of the head and glare at Sophia. I sit down next to Glenn, who has his head in his hands, moaning. I rub his shoulder, knowing how he feels. Actually, I probably don't, seeing he drank enough to be double shit-faced drunk. As it turns out, he has done many of the things I mentioned. Daryl comes over and sits next to me as Rick enters. "Are you hungover?" he asks his father. "Mom said you'd be."

"Mom is right," Rick replies, sitting down.

"Mom has that annoying habit," Lori says with a chuckle.

"Rick, your kid has a thing for asking people if they're hungover and making their headaches worse," I groan, my head killing me. Carl mouths his apology. I lay my forehead on Glenn's bicep, putting my arm around his shoulders.

"Eggs," T-Dog announces. "Powdered, but I do 'em good. I bet you can't tell. Protein helps the hangover."

He says the last bit as he scrapes some of the eggs onto Glenn's plate. The Korean lets out another moan, one rather close to a walker's. "Where did all this come from?" Rick inquires, and I glance up to see him holding a bottle full of Tylenol. He hands it to his wife after failing to open it. "Could you help, please?"

"Jenner," she replies, taking the bottle. "He thought we could use it."

"Thank you. Some of us, at least."

"Don't ever, ever, _ever_ let me drink again," Glenn moans from beside me.

"Never have I ever gotten that drunk."

"Fuck you," Glenn mutters, taking a drink of his orange juice.

"It was your idea, Short Round," I tell him. He simply pushes his glass towards me in response. "I take back my choice. Get to drinking, Willie Scott."

"Not gonna happen," I tell him, pulling away and picking up a fork to eat some of T-Dog's eggs. Shane enters, announcing his presence with a "Hey."

"Hey," Rick says back. "You feel as bad as I do?"

"Worse," the officer replies.

"The hell happened to you?" T-Dog inquires. "Your neck?"

I look up as Shane sits down. He has three scratches running down the left side of his neck. "Must've done it in my sleep," Shane says.

"Never seen you do that before," Rick says.

"Me neither," our former leader replies. I don't miss the look he shoots at Lori. "Not like me at all."

"Morning," Jenner greets, arriving in the break room. He is greeted by a chorus of "Hey, Doc" and "Good morning, Doc." I, on the other hand, greet him with a "What's up, Doc?"

"The sky," he replies, looking down at me as he passes on his way to the coffee machine.

"Oh, dad jokes make the hangover worse. Someone feed me to the walkers."

"Stop," Daryl scoffs.

"Doctor, I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing," Dale starts, but Jenner cuts him off.

"But you will anyway," Jenner says.

"We didn't come here for the eggs," Andrea says.

And with that, we quickly finish our breakfast before following Jenner into Zone 5. "Vi," he says as he walks to a work station. "Give me playback of TS-19."

Vi repeated the command as the computer program brought up a video on the big screen. "Few people ever got a chance to see this," Jenner informs us. "Very few."

On the screen, a blue light flashes as the playback loads, one looking like it could be a brain. Carl must be thinking the same thing, because he asks, "Is that a brain?"

"An extraordinary one," Jenner answers. "Not that it matters in the end. Vi, take us in for E.I.V."

"Enhanced internal view," Vi repeats, zooming in on the brain. Lights flash through the brain, going from one place to another. "What are those lights?" Shane asks.

"It's a person's life," Jenner informs us, as if he's teaching a class. "Experiences, memories. It's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you. The thing that makes you unique. And human."

"You don't make sense ever?" Daryl inquires.

"It's what makes you, well, you," I say, looking over my shoulder at my brother. "Those ripples of light are what makes you human."

"That's correct," Jenner says. "Those are synapses. Electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says or does or thinks from the moment of birth, to the moment of death."

"Death?" Rick inquires. "That's what this is, a vigil?"

"Yes. Or rather the playback of a vigil."

"This person died?" Andrea says. "Who?"

"Someone who was bitten and infected, and volunteered to have us record the process."

"TS-19," I say. "Test Subject 19. That's what it means, doesn't it?"

Jenner gives a nod without even looking at me. "Vi, scan forward to the first event."

Vi scans forward to the first event, zooming out from to brain. A blackness has started to overcome the synapses, filling up at least thirty percent of TS-19's brain. "What is that?" Glenn inquires.

"It invades the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown. And then, the major organs. Then death." The brain goes completely dark. "Everything you ever were or will be… gone."

Andrea lowers her head, clearly thinking of her sister. "Is that what happened to Jim?" Sophia asks her mother.

"Yes," Carol tells her.

Andrea sniffs, wiping her eyes, causing Jenner to turn around and look at her. "She lost somebody two days ago," Lori tells him. "Her sister."

Jenner walks over and tells her, "I lost someone, too. I know how devastating it is."

I feel Daryl's hands on my shoulders and lean back into my chair to look up at him. It goes unspoken between us: _That's what happened to Jess. _I latch onto his wrist, chills traveling down my spine as I remember my undead uncle snapping his teeth after me, hungry for my flesh.

"Scan to the second event," Jenner commands. "The resurrection times vary widely. We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute, and seven seconds."

A small red light flickers in the back of the patient's head, then grows. "It restarts the brain?" Lori inquires.

"No, just the brain stem. Basically, it gets them up and moving."

"But they're not alive?" Rick questions.

Jenner turns to face him, gesturing to the screen. "You tell me."

"It's nothing like before," Rick says. "Most of that brain is dark."

"Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part—that doesn't come back. The _you_ part. Just a shell, driven by mindless instinct."

A flash appeared on the screen, followed by what looked like a bullet cutting through the patient's head. "God," Carol says. "What was that?"

"He shot his patient in the head," Andrea says. "Didn't you?"

"Vi, power down the main screen and work stations," Jenner says instead of answering.

"So, they're somewhat alive," I say. "But they ain't human. They're empty of everything we have. A conscience, a soul. Thoughts. They're just a moving body, fueled by the instinct for food. Fueled by hunger. They're alive, but just enough to move and feed. A better term for them would be the walking dead."

"If you want to look at it that way," Jenner says.

"You ain't got an idea 'bout what it is, do you?"

"It could be microbial, viral, parasitic, fungal."

"Or the wrath of God?" Jacqui interjects.

"There's also that," Jenner tells her.

"Somebody must know something," Andrea says. "Somebody somewhere."

"There are others, right?" Carol inquires. "Other facilities?"

"There may be some," Jenner informs us. "People like me."

"But you don't know? How can you not know?" Rick asks.

"Everything went down. Communications, directives. All of it. I've been in the dark for almost a month."

"So it's not just here," Andrea states. "There's nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That's what you're really saying, right?"

Jenner says nothing. "Jesus Christ," I mutter.

"Man, I'm gonna get shit-faced drunk again," Daryl says.

"Doctor Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question," Dale says, speaking for the first time since coming into Zone 5. "But, I do have one. That clock." He points to a clock on the wall. "It's counting down. What happens when it reaches zero?"

"The," Jenner hesitates, obviously trying to come up with a good excuse. "The basement generators, they run out of fuel."

"Tell the truth," I say. "What really happens at zero, Jenner?" He doesn't answer, so I turn to the screen. "Vi, what happens when the power runs out?"

"When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur," Vi answers.

* * *

I follow Glenn, Rick, Shane, and T-Dog down the steps to the basement, Rick in the lead with a flashlight. The lights flicker on as we walk down the steps. "Decontamination? What does that mean?" Glenn inquires.

"I don't know," I say. "But I don't think it's good. Didn't you see how Jenner clammed up?"

"Yeah," Shane agrees. "I don't like that. And the way he just wandered off."

"What's wrong with him?" T-Dog asks. "Seriously, man, is he nuts, medicated, what?"

Rick points down a hall, and we follow him down it. We enter the basement, lights flicking on as we do so. Rick sends Glenn, T-Dog, and I in one direction, and him and Shane in another. All we find are dead generators and empty fuel drums. Suddenly, the lights go out, then faint ones come on. "Hey, who turned out the lights?" I call.

"Not the time for a _Doctor Who_ quote, Clary," Glenn chides. Glenn, T-Dog, and I meet up with Rick and Shane. "Did one of you guys kill the lights?"

"No. What'd you guys find?" Rick replies.

"Dead generators and more empty fuel drums than I can count," T-Dog answers. We hurry back up the stairs, and when we enter Zone 5, I can hear Daryl interrogating Jenner about the lights. "Rick?" Lori calls.

"Jenner, what's happening?" our leader asks.

"The building is shutting itself down, dropping all the nonessential uses of power. It's designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. It started as we approached the half hour mark," Jenner says. He looks up at the clock, which is nearing thirty. "Right on schedule." Daryl takes the bottle of vodka from Jenner's hands, spilling some on the floor. The doctor looks at us, then says, "It was the French. They lasted the longest, as far as I know. They stayed in the labs 'til the end. They thought they were close to the solution."

"What happened?" Jacqui asks.

"It's the same thing that's happening here, isn't it?" I ask. "Facility-wide decontamination, whatever the hell that means."

"No power grid," Jenner says. "Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel. How stupid is that?"

Shane starts to go after him, but Rick stops him. He turns to his wife and son, telling them to get their things. He tells the same to the rest of us. As soon as he says it, an alarm starts blaring. "The hell is that?" Daryl exclaims, standing next to me as we head to our room. "Doc, what's going on here?"

The doors suddenly close before we can go anywhere. "The hell are you doing?" I exclaim.

"Did he just lock us in?" Glenn asks, then exclaims. "He locked us in!"

"You son of a bitch!" Daryl shouts, dropping the bottle as he starts forward. "You son of a bitch!"

"Shane!" I shout, seeing as he's the closest to my brother and strong enough to stop him. The officer pulls my brother away from the doctor, as T-Dog and I run down. I push Daryl back, who is fighting against Shane, as T-Dog shouts for him to stop. Rick walks down, a look in his eyes I've never seen before. "Jenner, open that door now," Rick commands.

"There's no point," Jenner tells us. "Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed."

"Then open the damn things!" Daryl shouts.

"That's not something I control. The computers do. I told you once that front door is closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that." Jenner pauses a moment. "It's better this way."

"What is?" Rick inquires. "What happens in twenty-eight minutes?"

Jenner doesn't answer, so Daryl shouts, "What happens in twenty-eight minutes!"

"You know what this place is?" Jenner exclaims, standing to face us. "We protected the public from very nasty stuff!"

"You're doin' a pretty shitty job of it now!" I shout.

"We prevented things from getting out! Things that you didn't want to see, ever!"

"Do you think we wanted to see this shit! Most of us lost our family or our friends! You did a helluva job of not letting this get out!"

Daryl places a hand on my arm, pulling me back, as Jenner composes himself. "In the event of a power failure, a catastrophic one, H.I.T.'s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"H.I.T.'s?" Rick questions.

"Vi, define."

Vi launches into a long description, and I don't understand most of it. Other than the only thing equivalent to the power of a H.I.T. is a nuclear bomb. "Jenner, what does that mean?" Daryl inquires.

"It sets the air on fire," he says simply. "No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, regret. Everything."

I reach behind me for Daryl's hand, but I find he has left me. I turn to see that he's at the door, kicking it and trying to get it to open. "OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" he shouts at Jenner.

"Out of my way!" Shane shouts, running up to the door with an ax. T-Dog throws one to Daryl, who joins Shane in trying to bust the door open. I sit on top one of the workstations, counting down the seconds until our deaths. Jenner talks to the women who sit on the ground, Carl and Sophia in between their mothers. I look over at Shane, who has come down from the door. "Can't make a dent," he tells Rick and I.

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher," Jenner informs us.

"Your head ain't!" Daryl exclaims, coming down from the door with his ax.

"Whoa!" Rick exclaims as he and Dale move to stop my brother. I wrestle the ax from his hands, saying, "Put it down, Daryl! Put it down!"

"You do want this," Jenner says. "Last night, you said it was only a matter of time before everyone you loved was dead."

"You really said that?" Shane inquires. "After all your big talk?"

"I had to keep hope alive, didn't I?" Rick says to Lori.

"There is no hope," Jenner says. "There is no hope for any of us."

"You're wrong," I say. "Jenner, you're wrong. There's always hope. Maybe it won't be you, maybe not here, but there is someone, somewhere, that still has—"

"What part of everything is gone don't you understand?" Andrea says. Jenner agrees with her, believing that this is "our extinction event."

"This isn't right," Carol says, her voice shaking from crying. "You can't just keep us here."

"One tiny moment," Jenner says, leaning forward in his chair. "A millisecond. No pain."

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this!"

Jenner continues trying to persuade us to stop trying, but Shane isn't having it. He cocks a gun, putting the end of the barrel in Jenner's face. "Open the door," he threatens. "Or I'm gonna blow your head off."

Rick tries to tell Shane that if he does this, then we'll never get out of the CDC. Rick wrestles the gun from Shane, but not after the latter shoots some computers. Our leader hands the gun to T-Dog and continues trying to get Jenner to open the door, but takes a very different path. He asks Jenner about why he stayed when others ran or opted out. As it turns out, he stayed because he made a promise to Test Subject 19, his wife. He explains to us why he stayed, the promise he made, as Daryl goes back to pounding on the door.

"Your wife wanted you to go as long as you could, right?" I say. "That's what we want to do. We want to go out there and go as long as we can. Try as hard as we can. We want to try to _live_ as long as we can. It's what your wife wanted you to do. So c'mon, give us our chance."

Jenner is quiet for a moment, then says, "I told you, topside's locked down. I can't open those."

He walks over to a desk and swipes his card. The doors open. "C'mon!" Daryl calls. "Let's go!"

We run up the ramp to the door and out into the corridor. Rick and Jenner say their goodbyes, Jenner whispering something to Rick's ear. "C'mon, we got four minutes!" Glenn shouts.

T-Dog tries to pull Jacqui up the ramp with him, but she has decided that she wants to stay. We run to our rooms as fast as we can, getting our bags. Andrea decides to stay behind, but Dale tries to persuade her not to. He waves us on, and we reach the lobby within a minute. The doors won't open when we get up there, so Shane and Daryl try to open the windows with the axes. All it does is scratch the glass. It doesn't cut it, doesn't break it, just scratches it. T-Dog tries to use a chair to bust it open.

"Outta the way, boys," I say, putting a clip in a handgun. Shane, Daryl, and T-Dog jump down from the windows, and I unload half a clip into the window, but it's useless. "Dammit!"

"The glass won't break?" Sophia questions. Carol starts forward, digging in her bag. "Rick, I have something that might help."

"Carol, I don't think a nail file's gonna go it," Shane says.

Instead of producing a nail file, she produces a grenade. "Holy shit, Carol's packing heat!" I say.

"The first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform, I found this in your pocket," she says, handing it to Rick. We all dive for cover as Rick pulls the pin and sets it by the window. He runs for cover, and the blast throws him into the air. But the window shatters.

We run out of the CDC, killing walkers that stumble towards us after being drawn out by the blast. The group hurries to our cars, Daryl and I climbing in his beat-up Ford truck as fast as we can. "Daryl," I say, seeing two people exit the building. "They made it. Andrea and Dale."

Rick suddenly blows the horn of the RV, and Lori yells for Dale and Andrea to get down. Daryl and I duck down in the truck, him covering me, as the CDC explodes. Even though we're far away, I can still feel the heat from it. Jacqui and Jenner are dead, and the rest of us are still alive for another day.


	6. 5: Vatos

**Chapter 5: Vatos**

**_~Clary~_**

"Shane, go!" I yell, taking down a walker near him. "Run!"

"Together!" the former officer yells back, taking my arm and pulling me with him. We duck around the walkers, running for the RV. I try to pull away, to run back to Daryl, but he tightens his hold on my arm. "Shane!" I cry.

"You'll never make it!" he replies as the RV door swings open, Glenn leaning out of it. He yells out to us, "C'mon! Get in! Get in!"

Shane lets go of my arm, pushing past Glenn into the RV. I back up as a walker separates me from the RV, stumbling towards me. "Clary!" Glenn yells.

At the sound of his voice, I snap back, pulling out my knife and putting the walker down. I dodge a walker just as I run into the RV, nearly tripping in my haste to get in. Glenn catches me, falling back on the ground beside Shane. Carl leans around us, closing the door as Shane yells up to Rick, "We've gotta go!"

"Hold on!" Rick barks, twisting and turning to avoid walkers. I take a minute to catch my breathe, resting my head on Glenn's shoulder. "You hurt?" he asks me.

I shake my head, looking up when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Carl kneels on the ground beside us, one hand on my shoulder, the other on Shane's arm. "You guys okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine," Shane tells him.

I push myself up off of Glenn, leaning back against Lori's seat as I nod my answer. "Jesus, man," I sigh, looking over at Shane. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't even see 'em."

"I didn't either," he replies. "They may be slow, but they just don't tire. They just keep coming." He looks up at Rick. "Thank you."

"Don't thank us," Lori tells him. "Thank Daryl. He's the one who noticed."

"He started honking and yelling his head off," Dale tells us, grinning down at me. The others laugh, while I sigh, closing my eyes. Even from that distance, Daryl still had my back, was still keeping me safe. I reach up between Rick and Lori, grabbing the CB before leaning back beside Carl. "Hey, kemosabe," I say into it.

"Yeah?" comes his reply, and I grin at the sound of his voice.

"Thanks for havin' my back."

"Not a problem. You good?"

"We're good," I tell him. "But I don't know what our next move is. But I'll see you then." I put the CB back, looking up at Rick. "Got anythin', Officer?"

"I got one," he says.

"Is it good?"

"It occurs to me we have friends in this town." He glances back at the Korean. "Glenn, what do you think?"

"Yeah!" he says, realizing whoever it is Rick's talking about.

"It'll buy us some time. A night or two till we figure out what we're doing."

"The nursing home," Glenn explains. "Guillermo and his people."

"You mean the fuckers that kidnapped you?" I question.

"We parted on good enough terms," Rick says.

"Good enough don't mean jack shit."

"You weren't there, Clary," Glenn says. "You didn't see the way that Rick handled things. They're our friends. They'll take us in."

I sigh at that. Damn, I trust Glenn, and if he trusts these people, then it should be good enough for me. But these same people took him hostage, threatened to kill him. But still, I sigh. "Damn, Short Round. I hope you're right. But don't think he's gettin' away with anythin' less than a right cross to the face."

Beside me, Carl chuckles, but the group's silent the rest of the way to the nursing home. As we all climb out, Andrea looks around, remarking, "They look like they're barely hanging on. What makes you think they'll take in strangers?"

"With all those guns we gave 'em, they'll probably throw us a party," Daryl replies.

"No problem there," I say. "I'm always up for a fiesta."

Daryl snorts, looking up at Rick. "Good call. For once."

Rick looks over at me, and I shake my head, silently telling him that it'll be better not to reply. Glenn leads the way through a broken window into a courtyard, and we all follow suit, weapons raised. He turns back to look at us about halfway in, asking, "Where are the lookouts?"

"Changing of the guard?" I suggest, but that worries me. We continue on, around a corner, then stop. "Son of a bitch."

Walkers found this place before we did, and a few graze on the bodies of Guillermo's people. I draw my gun as the group of walkers gets to their feet, and I ask, "Rick?"

He draws his gun, but he doesn't issue orders. The walkers stumble closer, and he still isn't telling us what to do. The one in the lead will be on us in a matter of seconds, and I fire, taking it down. "To hell with the noise," I say, glaring over at Rick. "Do your damn job, Officer, or give up the crown!"

Glenn and Daryl immediately follow my orders, Rick and Shane joining a moment later. We take the ones closest to us down, a few still a ways away. "C'mon!" I bark, starting towards the door. "Get inside!"

Rick pushes past me, taking the lead as we hurry in. The women behind us stop short when they see the bodies of the elderly on the ground, Sophia beginning to cry. Daryl turns around, snapping at both her and Carol, "Put a sock in it!"

"Leave her alone!" Carol snaps, and I blink in surprise. Damn, nearly everyone from the Atlanta camp is terrified of Daryl and I, but Carol practically tells him to shut the hell up. I'm liking this woman more and more.

"Shut her up or I will!" Daryl replies.

"Daryl!" I snap, turning to face him. "Shut the fuck up! Leave 'em alone, you ass!" I glance over my shoulder at the leader. "Rick, we stayin' or goin'?"

"We don't have the fuel," Rick answers.

"We'll hunker down for the night," Shane says. "Rick, you, me, and Dixon are gonna sweep the building, make sure we're alone. Rest of you, barricade those doors."

He turns and continues on, Rick directly behind him. Daryl and I follow suit, and I glance over my shoulder to find Carol shushing her daughter. We come into a dining room of sorts, tables turned, bodies strewn around. I find myself looking down at them, studying them. I look up as I feel Daryl's hand on my back, and he whispers, "C'mon. We still got more to clear."

I follow him to the next floor, following closely behind him as we clear the hall. He pushes open a door, and I follow his gaze to the old man laying dead. I look down at the door, snorting as I read the door. _Prayer changes things._ Daryl follows my gaze, then scoffs, looking back at the body. "Guess that didn't work so well for you, did it, hoss?"

I tap his arm as he starts away, still staring at the body. "C'mon, Clars," he says, taking my hand. "Starin' ain't gonna do nothin'."

"That's not what I mean, Daryl," I say, tugging him back towards the room. "Look and tell me what you see."

Daryl looks for a second, then says, "He was shot in the head."

"And the ones downstairs?"

He looks down at me. "Same thing." Daryl takes my arm, pulling me with him to check and clear the rest of the floor. "C'mon."

We gather back in the dining hall, the group that was supposed to barricade meeting us there. "Upstairs is our best bet," Rick says as Daryl looks around again. "We've cleared a few rooms. We can barricade those if we have to. We'll be alright."

"You mean it this time?" Carol questions. "Or are you lying to us like all the times before?"

I raise my eyebrows at that. Damn, I really like this woman. Lori tells her, "That's unfair. And no help at all."

"Life's unfair," I say, looking up at her. "I'd suggest you'd best get used to it. This ain't the world it was 'fore. Just look 'round if you don't believe me."

"What the hell happened?" Glenn questions, cutting Lori off.

"What do you think?" Andrea asks. "They got overrun." Daryl scoffs at her statement, and she turns to look at him. "Something to say?"

"Yeah," he replies. "How about 'observant?'"

"'Observant?'" she repeats. "Wow, big word from a guy like you. Three whole syllables."

"You'd best watch your mouth," I snap.

"Walkers didn't do this," Daryl says. "They didn't show up till all this went down. Somebody attacked this place. Killed all these people, took whatever they wanted."

"What do you mean?" Rick questions.

"They were all shot in the head," I explain.

"Execution style," Daryl adds. "Y'all worried 'bout walkers? I'd be much more worried 'bout the people that came and did all this." He looks over towards Andrea. "Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant."

"We may be hicks," I snap, staring Andrea down as Daryl turns and walks away. "But don't think for one second that we're a bunch of dumb fucks." I scoff. "And weren't you a lawyer 'fore all this?"

"A civil lawyer!" she replies. "It's not my job to observe."

"Oh, sunshine," I say. "You always gotta observe. I wonder how many guilty assholes walked 'cause you didn't observe. You see, Andrea, but you do not observe."

* * *

I sit next to Daryl, leaning my head against his shoulder, as Rick and Shane search the kitchen for any food. I look up at the sound of Shane's voice as he says, "Ransacked the kitchen. All we found was the one can."

"They hit the dispensary, too," Rick tells us, walking in behind Shane. "Tore the door off its hinges. Took everything except this."

He hands a bag down to Lori while Glenn grabs a set of plates from a shelf. Daryl looks up at them, saying, "So you came back with cough drops and…" he tilts his head, reading the can in Shane's hand. "Garbanzo beans?"

"Is there any water?" Sophia inquires.

Shane kneels, digging in his pack, while he passes the beans off to Daryl to open. "Just one bottle I brought," he tells Sophia, handing it to her. "Just a few sips, okay? We've gotta make it last. It's gotta go for everybody."

Sophia nods, thanking Shane with a smile. He takes a seat beside us, reaching into his bag as Andrea asks, "What else you got in there?"

Shane pulls out a snack bag with a grin. "Salty snacks," Glenn guesses.

"Courtesy of the CDC," Shane tells him, tossing one of the bags towards the Korean. "Thought I'd be having midnight snacks in my air conditioned room. Didn't know it'd be dinner."

Daryl looks up as Shane pulls out a bottle of wine, asking, "Is that to share?"

"Seeing as how I owe you my life," Shane replies, passing it over to him. "I'm gonna go ahead and be nice to you from now on."

"I do believe I've earned the first swallow," Daryl says. "But you're only 'live 'cause Clary was with you." The others turn to look at him as he says that, and he ignores their stares, focused on opening the wine. "My main concern was gettin' her out."

"Let's go easy on that stuff," Lori suggests. "Let's not forget where we are."

Daryl shoots me a look, but he says, "Yes, ma'am."

He takes a drink, then passes it over to me. I take a drink out of it as Glenn dishes out garbanzo beans and Shane passes out bags filled with different chips and snacks. Daryl and I share a look as Dale approaches Andrea, knowing that this won't end well after her suicide attempt back at the CDC. "You okay?" Dale asks her, handing her a plate.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she replies. "We're spending a night in a building that smells so badly of rotting bodies I want to vomit up my guts. I'm dining on condiments and hoping I don't get eaten by dead cannibal freaks before dawn. What's not to like?"

At that, Dale gets up and walks out, joining T-Dog on watch. I sit back against the wall, my crossbow on one side and Daryl on the other, and I look up at Rick as Lori gets up to stand beside her husband. "So, what's next?" she questions. "We need to decide."

"Fort Benning, Rick," Shane says. "Still an option."

Rick nods once. "I shoulda listened to you Shane. Would've saved us a lot of grief if I had. Jacqui would still be alive."

"It was her choice, man," Shane replies, looking up at his best friend. "Do not take that on."

"It was her choice," Lori says. "It was her decision to make, not yours. No more than it was with Jim."

"All these people," Glenn says softly. "Who would've done something like this? Just come in here and murder everybody. Even all the old people. How sick is that?"

"Is this something we need to be discussing right now?" Lori scolds.

"He's right," I say, speaking for the first time since I snapped at Andrea earlier. "Who the hell did this?" I glance over at Glenn. "You're damn right it's sick. But hell, that's what the world is, ain't it? Unfair and sick as all hell."

"Clary," Lori snaps. "That's enough."

"Lay off of her, Mom," Carl says, looking up at her. "We're all strung out."

"I'd say get some sleep, then," Shane says. "I'd suggest we all turn in for the night."

He gets to his feet, Rick following him out into the hall. Glenn follows them out, Daryl pulls me to my feet and we follow them out, my brother closing the door behind us. "They're terrified in there," Shane scolds, looking down at Glenn and I.

"Guys, I'm really sorry," Glenn says.

"I'm not," I say. "Grow the fuck up. World ain't sugarcoatin' shit."

"Look, we're all rattled and exhausted," Rick sighs as Daryl takes another drink from the bottle. "No one's thinking clearly. But we have to start. Our lives depend on it."

"You're damn right," Shane agrees. "We can't ever let our guard down again." He sighs, starting for the stairwell where T-Dog and Dale are on watch. "Back at camp, having a fish fry with no one on watch. People died that didn't need to."

Daryl passes the bottle over to T-Dog, a sign of truce, as we gather in a circle. "Fort Benning," Rick says. "That's the consensus."

"Anywhere but here," T-Dog says.

"We're wasting fuel driving so many vehicles," Rick says. "We need to lose a few. We'll siphon the gas out of whatever cars we don't take. It should get us free of the city."

"I'll take Merle's bike," Daryl proposes. "I can get around roadblocks in that the cars can't."

"That'd be a start," Shane agrees. "Let's just try to get some shut eye tonight. T, I'll switch you out in an hour."

T-Dog nods once, and we get up, heading back into the room we chose. Daryl takes a seat in the corner, and I settle down beside him. "Get some sleep, Clars," he tells me. "You haven't slept since the CDC."

I throw my arm across his stomach, resting my head on his chest. "Well, damn, Clary," he remarks. "I hope you're comfy."

I smirk, closing my eyes as I settle down against him. Daryl sighs, but wraps an arm around me. I fall asleep almost right away, hoping, just as Andrea said, that a dead cannibal freak won't kill me before dawn.

* * *

**_~Daryl~_**

"_SHIT FUCKING DAMMIT!"_

Those of us awake all jump at the sound of Shane's shout, the light sleepers waking with a start. Clary scrambles for her crossbow, barking, "What the hell's going on?"

Shane runs for the room, his shouts reaching us before he does. "_WE GOT WALKERS!"_

He skids into the room, nearly running into us as we rush to the door. We slam it closed behind him just as the walkers arrive. Dale and Lori wake the others up while Rick, Clary, and I hold the door back. To Shane, Clary barks, "How the hell'd this happen?"

"They all came at once!" he pants, getting to his feet.

"We gotta barricade the door!" Rick barks. "Glenn, Shane, T! Give us a hand!"

The three push what they can against the door, but the walkers still push back. "C'mon, Clary, think," my sister mutters to herself. "Think, you dumbass!"

"The window!" I cry, seeing it across the room. It's big enough for all of us to get out. "Break the window!"

T-Dog grabs a rifle, using the butt of it to smash the glass. He grabs one of the blankets, covering the frame with it to lessen the chance of one of us getting cut on it. "Clary," Carl says, and I notice that he's made his way over to her. "What do you need me to do?"

She turns to him, ordering, "Listen to me. When they break down this door, and they will, you run for it. You hear me? You're not a fighter. You get out."

"C'mon!" Shane yells. "T, you and me, we'll go down first. We'll catch the rest of you."

The group nods, and Shane and T-Dog quickly jump out. "How far down is it?" Rick calls to them.

"About eight feet!" I hear T-Dog reply, and the group quickly starts jumping out. Clary assures me that she's got the door, and I go to help the others get out. "Move your asses!" Clary suddenly yells. "Door's gonna buckle!"

The others climb out much quicker now, and Clary barks to Rick, "Go! Get out!"

Rick nods once, jumping out after Carl. They others all get out, Carol, Sophia, Clary, and I being the only ones left. Clary orders, "Go. I'll hold it as long as I can."

"Clary," I start, but she shakes her head.

"No. Go, Daryl. Get them out."

I look over at the Peletiers, how Sophia clings to her mother, terrified of the idea of jumping out the window. I look back to Clary, knowing that Carol won't be able to jump with Sophia clinging to her like that. One of us will have to go with her. "Soph," Clary says. "Daryl's gonna go with you, okay? He'll take care of you."

I look over at Carol, seeing in her eyes that she trusts me with her daughter. I kneel in front of the little girl, taking her hand in mine. I nod once to Carol, and she turns, jumping out, as I tell Sophia, "It's gonna be okay." I stand, stepping towards the window with her. "It's our turn."

I turn back to look at Clary, just as the walkers break down the door. "Daryl, go!" Clary yells.

She turns, trying her hardest to keep them at bay. I pick up Sophia, jumping out the window in a rush. She lets out a yelp as we fall, and I hit the ground, Sophia on top of me. I struggle to get enough air in my lungs, the wind knocked out of me, and Sophia rolls off, Rick helping her up. "Daryl!" I hear Glenn say, and I blink, looking up at him as he leans over me. "Daryl, hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," I growl, pushing myself up. Glenn and I stand, looking up at the window, waiting for Clary. Then, we hear it. A single gunshot. "No," I breathe. "No, no no no no. Please, God, no!"

I drop to my knees, staring up, the sound of the walkers nearly deafening. "All you had to do was jump, you fucking idiot," I manage. "You stupid, fucking idiot. You just had to make it to the window. We woulda caught you."

"She was cornered," Glenn guesses, and I don't miss the break in his voice. "It's the only way. But she would've fought her way out."

I sit on my knees in silence, staring up at the window, Glenn by my side. I hear quiet sobs behind me, and turn to see Sophia burying her face in her mother's side, shaking. Carl leans against his mother, completely silent, shocked. I look up at T-Dog as he wipes his eyes on the back of his hand, the others silent in shock. "I thought she'd outlast us all," Glenn says.

There's a collective agreement, and Shane barks, "Dammit, we gotta go!"

Everyone gets up to leave, but I stay on my knees, not ready to go. Dale takes my arm, saying, "C'mon, son. It's time to go."

I follow them silently through the walkers that have arrived, and we all climb into either Carol's Cherokee or the RV. I follow Dale, Glenn, Andrea, and the Grimes' inside the RV, leaving my bike on the opposite side of the RV. I sit in silence throughout the night as we wait for the walkers to pass. I don't know how long it's been, and eventually, I hear Glenn's voice, quiet and soft, speaking, but I don't process what he's saying. I jump as I feel a hand on my arm, and I look up to see Glenn beside me. "Daryl?" he asks. "Daryl, you with me?"

"What?" I ask.

"Dale wants to know if you want to ride in the RV. The walkers are gone. We're gonna leave soon."

"I'm not gonna leave Merle's bike," I say, pushing past him towards the door.

* * *

**_~Clary~_**

I lean against Daryl's bike, waiting for him. He walks around the RV, and I grin at him being the first one out of the vehicle. He looks up, freezing when I say, "Took you long enough. Thought I'd be waiting out here all damn day."

"Clary?" he asks, then cries, "Clary!"

He practically sprints over, wrapping me in his arms as soon as he reaches me. "Oh, Clary," Daryl mutters. "I thought you were gone."

"I'm alright." I pull back slightly, looking up at him. "I'm alright, Daryl."

"How?" Glenn asks, and I turn to see the others there, having come out at the sound of my brother's voice. Daryl steps back as Glenn makes his way over, hugging me tightly. His voice breaks as he tells me, "We heard the shot."

"You thought I'd kill myself?" I ask as he pulls back. "Not unless I was bit. I shot a walker that got too close 'fore I could reload."

"What's all the blood?" Rick inquires.

"That?" I look down at myself, realizing exactly how much blood is on me. "Walker fell on top of me. Sliced it open when I was trying to kill it. Got its guts all over me, but it got me out of there in one piece."

Daryl wraps his arms around me again, obviously still in shock that I'm alive. Glenn gives me a small smile, then turns and follows the others away from us. "Daryl," I whisper after a moment. "Hate to break it to you, but I gotta breathe, buddy."

He releases me, looking down at me. "Here," he tells me, pulling one of his shirts from the saddlebags. "You're covered."

I look down at my shirt in disgust, giving a nod. I pull off my shirt, discarding it on the side of the road, then pull Daryl's on over me. He hugs me again before I can finish buttoning it up, saying, "You're such a fucking idiot. I thought you were dead. Both of you within three days."

"Hey," I say, pulling back. "I ain't goin' nowhere."

"Clary, Daryl?" Carl asks, and we turn. "Oh, uh, Clary, your shirt's unbuttoned."

I look down at myself, cursing, and quickly finish buttoning the shirt. Daryl steps slightly in front of me, and I chuckle as he does so. "Shut it," he mutters.

"My dad said we're hitting the road soon," Carl explains. Daryl nods once, and Carl's gaze shifts to me. "Glad you're still kicking, Dixon."

"You and me both, Grimes," I reply, taking a few steps closer. Carl steps forward, closing the gap, and wrapping his arms tightly around me. I stiffen for a second, then wrap my arms around him. "Sorry," Carl mutters, but he doesn't let go of me. "Guess I needed to make sure you were real. That I wasn't dreaming."

"I'm here," I reply. "It's real." I close my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder. "It's all real, Carl. That's the worst part."

"We'll be safe soon," he tells me as we pull apart. "We're gonna make it to Fort Benning."

"Well, then what are we waiting for?" I ask.

Carl grins, wraps me in a quick hug, then runs back to his parents. I start back towards Daryl as he says, "You've got that boy wrapped around your finger."

"Shut the hell up," I say, even though I know that he's right. If I say jump, Carl'll want to know how high. I climb on the motorcycle behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He revs the engine, looking at me over his shoulder, at the blood still on my face. He says, "Let's get out of this place."


End file.
